A Writer’s Fear

My sister and I two sides of the same coin. We are very different in the things that make us similar. Complementary kindred spirits is another fitting description; and we both write. I have been writing since my first school projects. I never could say enough on reports. In high school I wrote fiction and poetry aside from classwork. Honestly, I haven’t written much since then with college, and work, and now marriage and family there just isn’t enough time. But its always on my heart.

Sis and I were talking today and she said that she does not like letting people read her work because it is part of her. I responded something to the effect of, “Well, that’s crazy. But I don’t like letting people read what I write because I never really know what about myself I am revealing.”

“That’s what I said.”

It really is quite the thought. I feel like I can glean a little about a person by reading their work. I have read books by joint authors and can sometimes recognize who wrote certain sentences or contributed a certain thought or even tone. Personality, hope, fears, belief systems, prejudices, heartaches and desires all bleed through the lines, revealing how we see the world and what we believe makes people tick.

I don’t even know what it is about me that I am too afraid to reveal. I’m not really concerned about being liked or rejected. But, when I write what is on my heart, it feels intimate. I am not sure that is for everyone, and certainly not everything I write is, but I have learned one thing lately: publishing takes courage.

I don’t know if I have much of that courage, but I have a seedling. Wish me luck.


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