I’m supposed to be writing a book. Usually, the next question people ask me after I’ve told them that is “What’s it about?” But I’m not stuck there.
I’m stuck at the cursor.
Every time I sit down to write, I remember that I’m not a good writer. I remember that I’ve been rejected before. I remember that 40,000 words is a lofty goal.
So I walk away.
Because it’s easier for me to not try than it is for me to face my fear of failure. Every word feels wrong on the page because I know I’m not good enough. There’s someone better than me out there that can write it stronger. Not me.
I haven’t written in weeks because of all this. I’ve organized our pantry instead. I’ve wiped down the baseboards. I’ve gone to Target. I’ve cleaned the fireplace. Besides having a very clean house, I’ve done everything except write.
I didn’t even want to write this post because I’d be letting everyone know that I’m struggling with writing my book. Me. The writer. The wordsmith. Struggling. Or worse, that writing a book is way beyond me.
“Why is she writing a book? About what could she write about?” they’d ask.
I’ve let my dream die because I’ve refused to chase it. That’s right. My dream is dying.
So I’m fighting for it again. I’m hustling again. I’m reading and researching and writing again. And yes, it’s slow work. I’m finding my voice on the page again because for so long, it’s just sounded like what I thought it should be. It isn’t easy. Some days I’m still facing that fear of failure, but I’m not stopping.
I’ve been blessed with an idea and a passion for the written word, and I’m not letting that go. God loves my dreams because he made them just for me— no matter how crazy it seems.
Maybe you have a dream too and maybe it means you’ll have to face a nightmare too. Maybe you’re stuck in a place where all you can hear is that you’re not good enough.
God loves your dreams too. God didn’t give us dreams so we could let them die, so whatever it is that you’re dreaming today, fight for it.