Some days I feel lost in the waves of doubts and fears. Tossed about by the ocean of uncertainty. So many decisions.
What to say? What to do? And no real answers.
I have always been a storyteller, much longer than I was a writer. But a writer is always what I wanted to be. Now I am, and yet, I don’t always feel like a writer. I feel like a charlatan, a child dressed in my mother’s clothes and pretending to be what I’m not.
I feel like something important is missing. As if I’m reaching out into the darkness for it, not sure what is I’m holding, only to have it torn from my hands. The haunting laughter mocking my effort.
Maybe all I lack is a sense of confidence. Or maybe a need to let my voice shout out and cry from the roof tops “I’m here!” Mayhap it’s need to release my fear of condemnation and shouted judgements…
Mayhap it’s time to step from the cathedral’s shadow and embrace what I am. Embrace the world that is sometimes more real to me than reality. To breathe life into the flat, boring landscape that is my writing. It won’t be easy. I’ve trained myself to do what is safe. I’ve removed most of my personality from my blogging. Until it is…