One of my life goals, my dreams, is to write a novel. I love books. They’ve allowed me to travel all over the world. They’ve been my companions during lonely times. I want to give back to someone a little of what’s been given to me.
This week was like the beginning line of a A Tale of Two Cities…it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. A complete and utter roller coaster. A few kew words came up over and over again: vision, dreams and writing.
My mom and I were having a conversation earlier this week, and she told me that I need to start dedicating an hour a day to writing. I chuckled when she said that…kind of like Sarah when God told Abram that they would have a son. When she was 90. Friday night a friend who reads my blog told me that I should write.
I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I got the message.
Yesterday, I sat down and attempted to start writing. The blank page is both exciting and overwhelming. The possibilities are endless. There are stories that need to be told, words that remain to be crafted. But I also found myself completely intimidated. What if what I write sucks? What if what I write is amazing?
I don’t want to be that person who lives life looking backwards, asking myself “what if?” Today is the day that I start taking risks. No more what if’s.