Recently, I’ve started handwriting again. After the wave of technology, which covered my writing like thick smoke, I’ve stopped for awhile. But I remember a time where I would write whole books in notebooks. Carrying them around like an extra limb, and holding pencil to pad close to my chest like a scarlet letter. Now that I’ve started drafting posts on paper again, I’ve noticed a slight boost in the creative juices, racing easily from my brain and spilling black ink on the page. I forgot how fun this was, scribbling my heart into tangible form, and counting words by hand. Makes me wonder about the difference between the written and typed word. Why do I feel more accomplished having written this down first? Even if but a sentence? I like this and I think I’ll make it a habit again. Alas! The rebirth of pen to paper.
The fear lurks within all who put pen to page or fingers to keyboard. Should I do this? Should I actually sit down and write a story? What do I have to say that others would want to read? Our need to write is deep-seated, something we can’t deny. It’s a craving like you have for a cigarette or a drink of alcohol. Denying ourselves the opportunity to write leaves us with a deep ache within. Yes, we sometimes struggle to write, but we manage to get words down. A sentence here, a short paragraph there. Each word leading to the next, until the start of a story emerges onto the page or screen.
This fear is normal, but if you start to dwell on it, obsess over it, you may find yourself in a bit of a jam. You begin to find excuses to not sit down and write…
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