I’ve seen fear in people’s eyes. A fear birthed from a hunger to speak truth.
Write anyway, I say. It’s alright to be afraid, but your voice matters.
And I know God is tsking somewhere, nudging me to practice what I preach.
Yes, yes… (sometimes) I’m afraid to write.
And if I count the number of times I was prepared to run away, change my name, and pretend I didn’t speak English instead of starting a draft, well, I’d still keep counting now.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of, really. I grew up with family and friends who praised what I could do with a pen (and eventually a computer). And yet, I still bite my fingers and delay my drafts for as long as I possibly can.
I read somewhere that encouraging a kid for their innate abilities might not always inspire them to keep at their gift. Instead, encouraging kids for the effort they put into their work will motivate them to work harder (Ex: Not “You write so well!”, but “You worked so long and hard to write that! Way to go!”). I wonder if that’s true.
O lordy, it’s important to write.
Write, dear, because you have stories that have to be told.
Write, for you.
Write, for your spirit, because you know it soars when you write.
Write write write, despite your fears. Feed your hunger. Write write write.