For years and years annnnnd years, I’ve let fear run amok. It’s controlled many parts of my life, I threw away huuuuge opportunities because of such cowardice. My lack of spine, and lack of faith in self! I let doubts and impending criticism hold me back from sooo much.
But sis, bro, them!I am so over it. I have been a writer for seventeen long arse years. I have written scripts, poetry and scribbled ideas on napkins, journals and receipts. I have finished 16 MS! No one, has read so much as a word. Not one person, why? Cause I scarwed, or was. I was terrified of someone saying, “yo, this is garbage.” After I’ve just spent months pouring my whole soul into 120k words.
I was polarized and mortified by the mere thought of criticism. Not that I think I’m above it, absolutely not. No, it’s someone looking at my work and thinking I’m no good, cause I wanna be good, I wanna be a published author. And, I think I’m good, I do. I think I’ve got a knack for it, but what if someone disagrees?! That’s the scary part. Thing is, with age, I’ve grown less concerned with what others think of me, what I wear, or how I choose to live my life. For the life of me, I can’t find those same set of balls when it comes to writing.
Letting strangers read what I’ve written is exposing! I think that’s what it boils down to. People get to see what’s inside my dark, dank, attic which some would call a brain. It strips me bare for all to see, and perhaps that’s what I’m fearful of most. But by gods of Olympus, I’m sick of it y’all, I am done! Ya girl is fresh out of excuses. If I want people to read what I have, even ten sets of eyes, I will mush on! I want someone to see this world full of vampires and demons that reside in my head for weeks on end.
I feel it’s time you know, to throw caution to the wind and say, F it! Some will hate it, I am not delusional about this, there will be folks who will give it one star. But, that comes with the territory. Life as a storyteller isn’t easy, but if I can write it, I can publish it.