Me and My Why.
I have this saying tacked up above my desk on a sticky note. It says “Our medium is emotion. Not paper. Not pen. Not words. It’s exploring why we do what we do. The art is translating that emotion into language.” I wish I knew who said it.
I love it because it so precisely expresses what writing means to me. Writing allowed me to find my voice. To speak a truth so deeply buried even I had forgotten about it.
I’d like to tell you a little bit about me, my story, and why I started Write It Scared.
I believe in hard work and diligence and I was always very good at following directions and doing what I thought was expected of me. Somewhere in my childhood, I got the message that being creative was not a “good thing”. This translated into most of my life believing I didn’t have a creative bone in my body, though I admired those who did.
In my thirties, something shifted. I was pulled to write. I started blogging. I was terrified. I didn’t believe I was a strong writer. In fact, I struggle with dyslexia. It gets in my way. I depend heavily on spellcheck. I certainly didn’t feel creative, but I did have something to say. I wanted to express that I thought the idea of being invincible and an emotional island was bullshit. That true strength came from honoring our vulnerability and sharing it. Not from pretending we were perfect and needed no one.
When I started writing the words were slow and sticky. But I created a blog I was proud of and more importantly, for the first time, I put what I thought down on paper and published it for the world (all 15 subscribers) to see.
I was standing up for something with my voice. That was a liberating experience for me because, you see, I’d learned a long time ago that my opinion didn’t matter. Not really. Not down deep. Not when it mattered.
My voice was not for making changes or waves; it was for smoothing out rough edges and mending fences.
I had it all wrong, and I slowly went through the process of unlearning that false belief.
I’d secretly always wanted to be a writer. A maker of stories. In my late teens and early twenties, I’d purchased a few of the “How to Write a Novel for Dummies” books, but a paragraph or two was as far as it went.
I started to write a story in earnest, a creative non-fiction piece that was too close to a wounded part of me. I wasn’t ready to write that one down yet. But I had another idea and it would not leave me alone. So I started banging out the words. At 36 years old I started a YA fantasy novel in earnest. (This genre had been my guilty pleasure for years.)
Writing that novel gave me so much. It gave me freedom, a bridge to a world of imagination that I’d denied on purpose because I thought it was useless/senseless for me to attempt it.
Writing stories became my passion, and learning craft became my obsession. I loved it.
But here’s the truth. I’m scared. All. The. Time. I’m scared that the words aren’t good enough. The characters aren’t true enough. The plot isn’t dynamic enough. Basically, I’m not good enough. Even though I can step outside my ego for a moment and say, “Hey buddy, I know you’re just trying to keep me safe.” I still fall back into the same rut.
I created Write it Scared because I know I’m not alone in this feeling of not-enoughness when it comes to writing. I’m calling myself out here. I’m calling you out if you’re like me. We are enough. The words are enough. It doesn’t mean we stop growing, changing, or challenging ourselves to do better. It just means that right now, we embrace where we are in this story or part of our writing journey with grace, gratitude, and acceptance.
When I step back and look at the big picture, I’m just glad I made it here—to the thing that calls to my heart. I’m so grateful to have learned the lesson that brought me to the place where I am brave enough to put my words down on paper and share them with you. Brave enough to have followed my heart and my passion to become a book coach to help other creatives like me.
I urge you to be brave. We grow the most through HOPE. Hearing Other People's Experience. Being willing to put it down on paper, to show up raw and real, will give other people hope that they can do the same.
I urge you to write. WRITE. WRITE. WRITE.
Do it for you and the characters running marathons in your head. And do it for the fellow writer who hasn’t yet found the courage to put the pen to the paper or the fingers on the keys.
Writing is hard. Story is messy. Life is hard. Life is messy.
Do it anyway. Write it scared. I’ll do it with you.