Part of learning to live with greater intention every day is learning to take action every day. The most positive of thoughts, the loftiest of dreams, and the best of intentions are all utterly meaningless without some consistent action, and today, I took some much-needed action toward a long-awaited dream of mine. I wrote.
My goal is to expand my writing and to get to the point where I am worthy enough to be referred to as a writer. A real writer. In order to make that happen, I have to write. Obviously. Yet, I have been avoiding the obvious, as I have allowed life to get in the way and been a writer only in my dreams. With the stroke of a key today, though, I got out of my own way and began on my way toward writing a book. My book.
As I wrote the preface and the first chapter, I was lost in thought and memories, as the words made their way from my mind and heart onto the screen in front of me. It was a moment of pure joy that only was occasionally marred by pangs of self-doubt. At one point, I thought, “What am I doing? I can’t write a book.” Then, I realized, I could write a book, because there I was actually writing a book! Later, as I took a break to make a cup of hot tea, I caught a glimpse of my writing nook and computer out of the corner of my eye, and it was simply surreal.
As I stood there surveying the scene before me, I felt feelings of exhilaration and a sense of purpose that come from doing something I love, as well as feelings of abject fear of failure and rejection. The latter feelings gave way to the former ones, as dying with my story still locked inside of me terrifies me more than writing a book that no-one reads. So, I continued to write, and I will until I finish what I started this afternoon. One word and page at a time.
That’s another story. . .
Categories: Just One Thing Each Day