Inspiration has stood me up. But joke is on her, I am going to have a party here anyway.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I have an urge to type up stories, or write my thoughts in my journal. I certainly don’t think people are clamoring to hear my every thought, musing, or story. I don’t expect to get famous or rich off of it.
My theory: I want to write because I love to read.
Since I was a child, books have been my parent, friend, mentor, and companion since childhood. Books have made me meet people I admire and look up to, and travel to fantastic worlds. I want to write because a small part of me wishes I lived in one of those fantastic worlds, and was surrounded by all these people I wished I had in my lives. In a way, writing is my hope to a better life, real or imagined.
I also hope to, if I am good, inspire someone the same way I have been inspired. Dumbledore was, at once, only an imagined thing in J.K. Rowling’s mind. But even as a child, his story, his values, and his philosophy reached out to me in a way that inspired me to be kinder, and see value in people, including myself. To create that being in reality who only exists in the mind is magic!
So what’s the problem?
Well, I’m a human being and as part of the package I have my fair share of insecurities.
What if I’m awful? What if I can’t think of half a story, and if I do, I can describe it as well as my cat can describe the dresser she is sleeping on? I know most things in life are skills, but art to me has had a different philosophy. I’ve never thought of great writing as a skill, like metal welding or dentistry. Great writing to me has been a work of magic, coming from great people with brilliant minds.
And that is the heart of my insecurity. I don’t think I’m a great person. If the quality and content of writing is a reflection of the person writing, I don’t know if I’ll be very good.
I guess, the question for myself would be — what do I have to share with this world? Can my experiences, my imagination, my thoughts and feelings make a meaningful difference to someone’s life? Can they make someone chuckle, give them a small boost of self esteem, challenge an idea, or give them a sense of reward?
If that has a remote possibility, then I must try.