not real.
Words on Paper
I’m not a real writer.
I’ve never taken a writing class. I have no innate writing talent or writing experience. I’m certainly not a published writer. And I clearly don’t follow the writing rules of grammar.
I do have an inner critic though. Perched on my shoulder she speaks half-truths into my heart. Pointing out blunders. Delighting in my incompetence.
Despite all that I do seem to get words down on paper. Almost everyday. The more I write, the more I continue to write.
One thing builds upon another.
You might not think you are a real musician. A real chef. Or a real photographer.
Guess what? It doesn’t matter.
Ignore your inner critic.
Just begin. Then begin again the next day. And the next.
Because I’m not a real writer I write mostly for myself. Attempting to root out buried truths. Digging for significance in ordinary moments.
Do I hope someone will read my writing?
Sure.
But more importantly I write because it brings meaning into my life.
I realize I’m not crafting a novel. There is no character development. No dialogue. No settings.
In all honesty I started writing blog posts to show activity on my website.
And yet, I now write daily and post almost every week.
If I waited until I was ready or good enough I would never write. Not ever.
Because I’m not a real writer I feel a bit nauseous each time I post. I feel judgement before anyone reads a word. And I immediately feel regret.
I suppose given all the anxiety it is a surprise I continue.
Yes, it would be easier not to share.
But here’s the thing. Doing something new does not come without fear. Or obstacles. Or a steep learning curve.
Doing something new often means opening yourself up to uncertainties. Disappointment. Frustration.
On top of all that it requires enormous amounts of perseverance.
Sure I could sit on the sidelines with my writing notebook tucked away. Hiding to avoid failure. Held captive to my inadequacies. Blinking back discouragement.
Starting is hard. Sharing is daunting.
Do it anyway.
Thankfully, I’m not a real writer.
“I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand.”