Writing is a bit like being seen in your underwear.
And not even the pretty pair that makes your rear look good.
Writing is embarrassing. It’s vulnerable, oftentimes painfully so.
Can I let you in on a secret? I have trouble taking my own advice: act braver than you feel.
I rarely feel proud and, even when I do, it’s for a fleeting moment. That’s exactly why I can’t put my hope and joy in this writing thing.
Even so, I love writing.
I can’t not put words down.
If I go too long without writing, my heart feels hallow. My soul feels lifeless. My inspiration well runs dry.
I love writing, but I’m a baby in this community of words. I’m very much aware that I’m in theapprentice stage of my craft.
And can I tell you something else? I don’t want to be. I get angsty. I feel stuck. I get discouraged at the measly headway I’ve made.
But I have to believe that we grow in the waiting. That waiting is full of hard questions, yes, but progress, too. What I write today is my best work today, but it is not the best work of my life. And yet, to develop into a better writer I must let others read my not-best-yet work, get feedback, take criticism, celebrate joys, learn, be patient, write more. And that’s vulnerable. And vulnerability hurts.
But vulnerability is brave, too.
So be brave with your craft. Show up. Do your work.
And know that the best is yet to come.