Am I freaking out?
No, not at all! Not even a little bit. I'm not lying awake at night, shuddering in fear of typos, wondering why oh why I couldn't be born a machine that never, ever makes mistakes. And is fluent in French.
I'll be honest here. Writing does not come easily to me. I'm a very technical person. Black and white. My favorite subject in school was math. I work in banking. I like rules. I get so excited when I see someone pulled over by the police that I nearly explode.
|Take that, Rule Breaker! BOOM!|
Writing is a world of color. Writing is all about the way something smells, and how it looks in the mid-morning light. It's complex and multifaceted. It's this story that unfolds in your head, and these characters whom you love despite their many, many flaws. Characters who speak to you, and through you, and would never see the light of day without you.
Maybe it's because I struggle with it, or because it forces me step back and view things differently, but I love writing. I LOVE it. When I don't have time to write, it's reflected in my mood. If I had a checklist for Reasons of Grumpiness, which let's face it, would probably be quite helpful, the very top of the list would be "Have you written anything recently" followed by "How close is the nearest piece of chocolate?"
I can accept that I'll never be the best writer in the world. Or the country. I'm not even the best writer in my family. And my handwriting is absolutely horrendous. But it's time. I'm doing it. I'm going to relinquish my precious control over this thing that I've worked on for a very long time, and I'm going to put it out there for all to see. Hopefully without any typos.