If no one reads my words, does that mean I am not a writer? If I am not published, is my work not good? If I stop writing will the words continue to come? If I refuse to share my gift with others will it cease to be my gift? If I show one thing to the world, but feel something different which one is real?
When I consider asking these questions of someone else, the answers seem simple and easy. Then why is it so hard to calm the battle that goes on inside of me? The inner critic tells me I am no good. The still small voice says I am beautiful and fabulous. To whom shall I listen?
Over the last several months I have been encouraged to submit my work for publication. Yikes! It was bad enough while in graduate school to turn my writing into a teacher’s assistant and have it graded. Now I am subjecting myself to pure rejection. It really stinks. Hearing words like this “We have read (your submission) with interest. Unfortunately, it does not meet our editorial needs at this time. Blah blah blah” is really no fun at all.
So why do it? I am still pondering that one but somehow it all feels like the process where I need to be. Often when I get discouraged and feel like giving up, I receive a wonderful reminder in the words of another (God, fellow bloggers, friends, a stranger) and my desire to continue to write is renewed.
The words this morning came in the form of this quote: “We are here to live out loud.” --Balzac. And this one: “But imagine if birds only sang when heard. If musicians only played when approved of. If poets only spoke when understood.” --Mark Nepo
And so, for today I will continue to write for I cannot stop. It is like trying to stop the waves from crashing to the beach or the sun from rising in the morning or the birds from singing in the twilight. Because deep in my heart I know that I am created to “Live Out Loud.”
photo by bill