Damn! As I sat reading ‘F. Scott Fitzgerald on the Secret of Great Writing by Maria Popova,’ I realised that I wasn’t yet ready to pay the price of admission. And there I was thinking of beginning work on the novel this year!
I know I have the relevant skills to emote well on paper (ok fine, my laptop!) but then why did I stop short of saying exactly what was in my mind? What was I afraid of? Or did I not have the gumption to accept defeat, feel the fear, face the adversity or stand my ground? Yeah, I think that’s it. I was afraid.
I did write but always have the reader in mind – no, not ‘anyone’ who perhaps might accidently find my blog while surfing. They didn’t scare me. I feared those whom I knew, those who would understand, read between the lines and make the connections. I feared that I wouldn’t stay ‘nice’ anymore. I feared being judged.
Then why did I write?
I guess because there is clarity in my thinking when I’m writing not when I’m facing another individual – in those moments I’m more concerned about saying the ‘right’ things, being acceptable, sounding objective.
I guess because I’m a loner. As I’d accepted some time ago I like being alone. When alone I don’t feel lonely. Writing is a lonesome experience – so only my thoughts matter, people don’t.
I guess because it makes me feel free – free from the hurt, sadness, anger. I’m vocal when I’m writing! Writing helps me vent – the emotions flow out of my system and then I feel alright, lighter. It allows me the strength to get back into action.
So what am I saying here? I write to give vent to my emotions, my deepest thoughts. Yet, when writing, I hold back those same emotions because I don’t have the courage to pay the price of admission? That’s so warped! Yet so bloody true!
So how do I let go? How do I learn to let go?
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