Fears of A Writer

I'm afraid.

Afraid that I will one run out of things to say.. stories to tell.... worlds to share. So many stories have already been told since the world began. Is there anything that can be considered new any more? I know that the odds of someone writing a piece on the same topic that is brewing in your mind in the exact way and manner you would regale the world with your thoughts on said topic is so low it can be considered impossible. But...what if it is possible? That right now, the project that you have sweated and toiled over and called your own is not in fact just yours alone...that someone else shares this project with you also. There must be thousands of writers all scribbling furiously in their notepads and journals right this moment, hoping to hold onto that brilliant thought (that most of us could share) long enough to be the first one to put it into words and onto paper.

Paper.

Paper will never lose its appeal to me. I don't know about you but I love to write my drafts on paper first. Most of them never get transcribed into an electronic format but I don't really mind that because at the end of the day, I feel more connected to the story when it is actually written by me- yes, I am aware that is not sustainable of me :/.  I remember reading somewhere that paper is one of the best listeners in the world and it really is. It is also quite patient- never rushing you to get your words out. Whatever greatness or crappyness it now beholds, it will never reject your thoughts- we do that.  It is only now that I am beginning to be more confident about sharing my work with others to see if they will be as accepting as my pads of paper have been and using it as a means to figure out how I can improve my writing skill. Whether I will pluck up the courage to one day send a draft of my musings to an actual editor is yet to be decided... but I am no longer running away from that possibility which to me is progress. 

But I am still afraid.

Afraid that the ink of my pen is about to run out and there are no more refills. Afraid that I will not get to live the dream I have had since I was a young girl in this lifetime simply because I have nothing else to offer. The fear that what ever I produce could be classed as plagiarism because someone else got their work out first. But even though that fear is slowly trying to prevent me from picking up my pen all together, I actually do not think I would ever stop writing. Even if it is about mundane things like the feel of wet sand beneath my feet on a windy day at the beach, I know I will still write about it. So, I guess all that is left for me to do now is to persevere and keep on writing. Because even if I create a story that is so similar to someone else's, there will be differences that will make it uniquely mine even if it is only how I chose to arrange the words used in my sentences.

And if my pen does indeed run out of ink...

Well, I will just have to go out and get a new one. After all, who doesn't love a shiny new pen? Embracing a new way of writing...of thinking... of expressing one's self. Going beyond what was to experience something new. Getting out of your studio, office or room to enter into the world and allowing it to inspire you and give you exactly what you need for you to carry on. Yes, when that time comes and I feel I have no more stories to tell I will simply force myself to put on my coat and walking shoes, carry my purse and umbrella and head out of my house to go out and get new ideas... change my perspective. I will allow all my senses to absorb the beauty and chaos around me that always differs day to day and interpret it in whatever way comes naturally.

Mo x