I know it. I desire it. It is on its way!

I’ve been gifted an opportunity that I prayed for, I’m surrounded by nature with nothing on my schedule except writing. My ego wants to put pressure on me, I can hear its negative voice sarcastically saying “you’ll never get it done!” I allow myself a hesitant laugh before thinking “I really shouldn’t have mentioned to so many people my goal of emerging with a final draft in just one month, what if I can’t do it?” I follow my thoughts and begin to better understand the truth of my “self” and where the inner work still needs tweaking. After a year, I’m on the second draft, which surprisingly is a little harder; the first draft flowed out unrestricted and raw but now as I assemble the jumble of words and place them into chapters in an attempt to make it flow as a story I realize it’s a lot like floating down a river I’m still not sure where it’s going, the scenery is great but where will I end up…

I suppose that’s the adventure of being a writer or on the other end reading a book for that matter, the excitement is to see where it goes. I recognize the only thing stopping me is the fear of failure, or is it the fear of success? I’m still not 100% sure on that one.

Why am I convinced that what anyone else thinks matters? I’m not alone with this destructive patterning but I’m quite surprised to see it veer its ugly little head again. I thought I was past living my life in fear of displeasing others, or allowing the pressure of others expectations to permeate me. Obviously there is still some subtle patterning that needs to be addressed and I’m grateful to have it surface now before the “critics” get a hold of my work.

I remind myself the only deadline I have is self imposed. The reason behind writing is because I love to. I’ve been a writer since childhood. In fact my mother just found some school work from as early as elementary where teachers encouraged me to continue to write. I recall many positive reinforcements my English teachers provided over the years encouraging me to explore writing. When it came to exams I always breathed a sigh of relief when essay questions were involved, I thought everyone did, until I spoke with friends in senior year after finishing our finals. Their brains ached from the three essays that we had written, where mine was still alive with more stories longing to be told. I knew somewhere deep inside writing, in some form, would be part of my future but I still lacked the confidence to dream of being an author until now I can’t ignore the prompts any longer.  

By end of the month the dream that was scared to have a voice now has the intention to have quite an accomplishment under its belt and finishing in itself will be success.

You can support my undertaking as a writer with a donation by clicking the link below