My name is P.S. Hoffman and I’m afraid of writing. It’s a subtle thing, a small thing that’s hard to notice, but it’s always there. In between every word, there is a pause, a tick where I’m not sure if I can do it, I’m not sure if I can write the next.
I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m afraid nobody will care, or worse. I’m afraid that what I’ve written now is the last I’ll ever write, because nothing I do will ever be good enough.
My name is P.S. Hoffman, and I’m finished with fear. I have too much to say, I have too much to share, and I don’t have time to be afraid.
And neither do you.
Think of this: Your mind is your civilization, and your civilization is dying. Maybe not today, but soon; the end is already in sight. You must write, or else every idea, every advancement, every great thought that your civilization created will be pass into oblivion. You must write because you are the last of your kind, and the future needs to know you.
I invite you, dear writers, to write with me. I invite you to try, everyday, to scrawl out a sentence, a story, or anything you’ve got. I invite you to set time limits, and not word limits. I encourage you to try, to fail, and after you fail, to not give up.
Because what you have to say is important. It doesn’t matter what others tell you, it doesn’t matter what you tell yourself, do not be afraid. Your words are important. Go write them.
What is holding you back? Fear of rejection, or perfectionism, or something else? How will you deal with your fears?
Image by Pat Meler via Flickr Creative Commons