A beginning

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I think because it sounds
easy and like it would be a very versatile career. I wouldn’t have to sit at a
desk all day (currently I’m typing in bed on my laptop…my kind of job), show up
at a certain time, or get a dr’s note for being sick. No one would yell at me
for being late and I could have a completely unproductive day whenever I
wanted. But even with this ever present desire to write how often have I put
pen to paper or fingers to keyboard? If you guessed rarely to never you are
correct.

I have an ever present fear of failure which is somehow
assuaged by just never trying. If I never try to write I can never fail. I am completely
aware that never trying reduces my success likelihood to 0% but somehow that
doesn’t change the fact that I just don’t try.

I expect a book or article idea to jump, fully formed, into
my head. Then I would feel this ever present desire to just type it all out and
after a couple days … BAM… a fully formed manuscript which I would send in to
someone(really no idea who) and they would tell me I’m the next J. K. Rowling.

Obviously this isn’t going to happen. Ever. Because to be a
good writer I’m assuming I actually have to write, probably a lot. I have
to accept that failure is a likelihood not just a possibility and that no ideas
are going to jump out fully formed with absolutely no effort. Also maybe no one
will ever read anything I write, or everyone that reads it will hate it.

Oh well. You don’t learn to run without taking a step. So
here’s my first step….