What's stopping me from writing when I know in my heart it is something that I wanted to do? As I reflect, I come upon these questions:
Am I afraid that others may find what I write boring, ordinary, and shallow? Surely it is great to write an interesting piece, but to please someone is secondary. I write primarily to express myself.
Am I writing to create an impression? To prove that I can write and show how a great thinker I am. So that people will see me as a philosopher or a great story teller. Am I not using my skill to create an identity for myself, where the resulting identity becomes the motivation and not the act itself?
Am I writing in the hopes that I will be recognized one day? In that case, I am motivated by some future reward, and not by the act itself.
Am I being a perfectionist, waiting for a perfect subject and the perfect words that will surely interest many readers? I don't think so. I dare to forge ahead, make mistakes, rather than wait for the perfect moment ending up not creating anything at all. I will let my writing reflect the evolution of my life.
I am none of these, and I hope these very questions will serve to remind me of what not to become. I am not a writer, and I am not even hoping to be considered as such. I simply do the act because I love to, nothing more, nothing less.
