What if people find out what a fake I am?
I mean....there are literary classics that I hated (sorry, Herman Melville, I just couldn't get into the whole Captain Ahab thing.....and Nathaniel Hawthorne, well, at least The Scarlet Letter was kind of short) and worse, there are literary classics that I haven't yet read (I can't even put this in a regular-sized font....Pride and Prejudice*). I write only the stuff I feel like writing, and when it gets tough, I just get up and have a non-healthy snack or something. No important stuff flies from my fingertips on to my outdated laptop. Just stuff that amuses me. And speaking of outdated computers, I've got no twitter, no facebook, no I-pod upon which to create my playlist......What in the world makes me think I can or should be an author?
And yet, here I am, still chasing the dream. Still writing my books because there is nobody that says I can't. And I guess that is my message today, to myself as much as anyone. There IS nobody who says you can't.
And as long as you can sit down with the blank page, just the two of you, and create something where moments before there was nothing, then you are a writer. As long as put the time in typing the words, learning from the mistakes, trying everyday to make the words string together more beautifully than the day before, you are a writer. As long as the ideas in your head create an undeniable urge to touch pen to paper, regardless of how messy and wild that writing may be, you are a writer.
So, um, that's where I am today. Hope the words help you if you find yourself in the same spot.
*Here's the dilemma with P and P. What if I read it and hate it? Then I'll just looks like one of those hoity-toity "Oh, Jane Austen is so bourgeoius" people or something like that. Sure, I'll probably like it...but my expectations are HUGE. I mean, it's just about everybody's favorite book. So, that is why I choose to remain ignorant. It's supposed to be bliss, right?