What are you trying to do?

I belong to a number of writing groups on the interwebs through various social medias. Sometimes, I read on them questions like:

When did you know you were a writer? or How did you become a writer?

I often don’t know how to answer that question because I think I was always a writer. But like some other things in my life, the desire to write seemed to ebb and flow. I tried to suppress it, trying to engage in more profitable pursuits since I was told in the past my writing would never amount to anything much. But, like everything else I tried to suppress (my love of unicorns, my sense of humor, the ways I express myself), this desire to craft words into sentences, paragraphs, stories…. it just kept popping back up.

Life is funny that way.

We often hide ourselves away, keeping parts of us tucked away, afraid to let the world see. For years, I let only a few of my circles know I was a published author. I kept that persona detached from what I projected to others on a daily basis. As a result, I was seen as sensible, stern, strict and without humor. But that was a far cry from the goofy, normal me who loved to tell stories.

We all make excuses, trying to hide parts of ourselves away from what might indeed be our calling. Because others told me my writing was no good and that if I chose to even try to pursue it, I’d end up no where, I concealed that I write. In a way, I still conceal it, since I don’t broadcast loud and clear I am an author and writer. But the circle that knows I write is getting larger each and every day. I have sold myself short in the past because others were jealous. I made myself small so they could feel better about their own misgivings.

We all want to hold on to things that weigh us down, the burdens, the baggage, the stuff that causes each of us to sell ourselves short. We pile upon the worries and fears, the intolerances and the what ifs until we can’t see the goal anymore.

It was just a couple of years ago that I let all of that go. I had decided then that I wanted to write and decided to ignore whatever negative things anyone told me about it. There were stories to be told, words that needed to be written, magic that I could make with pen and paper, fingertips and a keyboard. And while my bank account hasn’t grown by much because of this, I have inspired others to keep going. I have written stories that people are intrigued by. I have been able to do a great deal of intangible things with my writings.

What are you trying to do with your life? Are you trying to create magic in your own way? Perhaps you are trying to find the answer. Perhaps you already know, but are too afraid of what others might think to pursue it.

Dear readers, we all need to learn to have faith in ourselves. We need to learn to trust the processes that allow us to do the things in life we are meant to do. This blog is one outlet for my calling, and my only regret in life is waiting far too long to start writing it. But perhaps, possibly, I was meant to wait, to let life and its curveballs mold me and shape me into the writer I am now. And maybe, whatever you are meant to do will come, shaped by circumstances and complications and all of the other magic life has to offer.

So stay magical, my friends. We are all meant to do something, to be somebody. But we are all meant to find that in our own time and in our own way. Don’t be afraid to take that step, to find that certain spark of magic that will lead you to the story you will write of your own life.

I will continue to do the same.

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And as always, #writeyourownstory