I always ask myself why do I write. If I were to listen to a certain individual, it would be to ‘get attention’. After all I’m supposedly attention starved and it all has to be about me. Oh, and I could never measure up to the ‘greats’. So why bother.
It took me a long time to get past that. To realize I had thoughts, stories, and opinions that were valid and clamoring to get out of my head. Worse, if I didn’t allow myself an outlet I became a very miserable individual.
So, I wrote, sharing with trusted friends. I knew that I could rely on them to tell me if I was producing crap or not. Then I got bold. I started blogging. (oh the horror! strangers could read my writing!)
According to said individual, blogging was nothing but drivel. The refuse of anyone who ‘thought’ they had something important to say and really did not.
My blogging set me free. I developed friendships across the country with like minded people. People who shared my passions. The words that I wrote became more concise and focused. I created several different blogs to address the many facets of my life. All the time the physical manifestation of my inner censor yammered at me saying, ‘your voice has no value.’
I recognize that all this resistance being placed in my path by the individual comes from a place of jealousy. A need for recognition and the fear that they wouldn’t be able to succeed. I’ve frustrated her immensely by continuing despite her ‘attempts to protect me from myself.’ I don’t need protection. I just need acceptance of me, just as I accept them.
I write because it makes me happy. The sheer act makes me whole. Each word selected allows me to put to voice a valid thought, exploring the wilds of my mind.