Fears of a Newbie Writer
I started writing this after I submitted to an anthology, and feeling I didn't give them my best. I felt at best I only gave them a "polished" first draft. Already thinking I got rejected before the letter even came. (I'm still waiting as of writing this) So I felt like opening a word doc and just put my thoughts to paper. Just to wonder if writing is something I want to do. A little bit of editing and you have what is below. The FWG liked the first draft, hopefully you'll like the "polished" one. Enjoy and have a nice day.
FEARS OF A NEWBIE WRITER
I'm scared of trying to be a writer.
I'm scared cause I don't always believe in myself.
I'm scared cause I don't know if I'm even educated enough to write.
I'm scared cause part of me wants too.
One who wants to create grand new worlds.
Or small scenarios that look into a character's soul.
But the other wants to hide.
To look at the others above,
But never eye to eye.
I love stories. Love, Love, Love them.
In all shapes from text to screen to computer.
With the right words, in the right order,
You can convey an idea that can open a person's mind.
That happened to me when George was talking about the rabbits.
How a man tries to preserve the written word in a society that burns them.
When a young boy living under the stairs learns he was capable of doing great things.
A gray old man teaching a youth the colorful joys and pains of the world.
When an otter discovers his true sexuality.
When I think about them, my soul fills with hope.
These stories informed me,
Mold me.
And even saved me.
A spark begins to light up.
Yes I can write like them.
With the right amount of time and perseverance
I too can write not only a story to entertain,
But maybe a story that inspires another to write as well.
Soon my mind is following with ideas.
What to write? What the write?
But then the doubt comes in again.
The shadows whispering in my ears.
I am not worthy.
Wrong education, wrong ideas, wrong person.
How dare I think I could be something great?
Even writing this will be seen as nothing more then a cry for help.
A cry from a weak, pathetic, sad man with no time to commit.
Let alone one who wants to write about fluffy talking animals.
And sometimes the shadows win.
It makes me blow out the spark.
Got to think partially
And a storyteller is anything but practical.
And yet, here I am.
Still writing away.
I can't stop.
I don't want to stop.
I just opened up a Word Doc and wanted to voice out my doubts in my head.
To question myself if this is something I truly want.
Then the spark lights up again.
Blowing away the shadows and the words come flying out.
I'm scared.
I'll always be scared.
But that's not going to stop me.
Not anymore.
I want to be a writer.
No.
I AM A WRITER
No matter whether I'm good or bad.
Just doing the act is all I need.
Till then I fill these pages with words
And who knows, maybe someone will like them.