My return to writing isn’t interesting; it’s how I managed to convince myself for so many years that I wasn’t a writer that keeps me up at night.

Like many of you, I started writing the moment I could and, for me, that began with a journal around age six. Short stories followed through school, with more journaling and even some reporting for my high school newspaper. During and after college I kept journaling, contributed to a friend’s webzine and freelanced for local newspapers.

But I still didn’t think of myself as a “writer” and not even when I chose a profession that draws heavily on my writing skill. I suppose that’s because, to me, real writing was writing books – and, up until five years ago, I hadn’t done that yet.

And by giving into my insecurities, I successfully curbed my drive to write over the years, until one day I couldn’t curb it anymore and I started my first book, which I finished six months later. That was three books ago.

Today, as I sift through old material, I see that, yes, my stuff is good. And then, I understand: being a writer is both a decision and not. I grasped control of my work the moment I stopped controlling myself – and that’s possibly the doorway to the best writing of all.

https://emwynter.wordpress.com/

 

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