I love the idea of creating something from nothing, and that something having significance. Even for a moment. This is what I long for. It’s what I believe I’m made for. But fear of failure looms large.
If I start, I might fail. Several times in fact.
Fear is not a good friend. Fear doesn’t want me to change the world. Or change myself. It only wants me to stop moving and settle for wherever I am today. It wants me to take the seemingly safe, wide road that leads to regret.
Fear, you disgust me.
I’m ashamed to say that, other than this blog, I have not pursued many of my creative interests. I sit and dream but do little else to develop the skills needed to write and illustrate children’s books and weave wistful stories for young adults.
I spend my money on someone else’s books and surround myself with art supplies. But I haven’t committed to learning the craft. As if desire alone would somehow be enough to bypass the hard work necessary to turn talent (which I do not claim to have) into results.
A close friend recently challenged me to begin. Where I am. As I am. And see what happens. After all, how can I succeed if I never start?
This is why I am most definitely writing this blog.