I love to write.
I came into this year with a burning desire to stop wrestling with the writer who shares my skin. I’ve written a few pieces, not all of them available here, and all it does is add fuel to the fire. The act of writing fills me up. It doesn’t drain me. I do it because I “can’t not.”
But I have a problem.
My writing doesn’t always get to play outside with the other boys and girls. Every time I start writing, I feel like it needs to be perfect before I share it. Most days, I love what I write. But it only takes a granule of doubt to stand in between me and the publish button.
In fact when I look at the publish button, most days, this is what I see.
John reminded me of this today in his session at WordCamp ATL. He said I needed to get over the fear and just publish. I know he’s right. I am a writer and writing is my art. I want it to be perfect and that quest for perfection is actually hurting my craft. Instead of bringing my writings to completion, setting them free, and growing from the process… I let my ideas wither behind closed doors.
Let’s be real here. My soul isn’t on the line, just my ego. And the sooner I sacrifice that thing, the better. I let the sharp pointy teeth of the Publish button, and all the insecurities that come with it, beat me before the game even begins.
But not today.