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The “Write” Dream

I’m looking through my texts on this blog to see what I actually write about. I’m searching for the common denominator. What is my pet subject? Do I have one? I guess I’m writing a lot about – me! – and about writing itself. That reminds me… Unfortunately I didn’t follow up on my promise to learn out loud. I wasn’t brave enough.

I am writing a novel, or I have written parts of one. My idea was to share the experience on the blog as I was doing the actual writing. Because I struggle so much with believing in myself I didn’t have the courage to go through with it.

Since I first got the urge to write in 2009 I have been struggling with a ton of fears. At first I was afraid to even show my work to somebody, because it wasn’t good or interesting enough. In my writing classes showing our work was part of the deal, but I never felt confident. A few times I found my writing funny, but I never believed I had what it takes to write a book. Even today I’m not sure. Could I really?

For Whom Do I Write?

Instead I looked for other ways to write. I had been blogging for many years, but when some good friends told me my texts were “boring” and “too long” I stopped. I couldn’t keep away for too long though. The need to write was too strong. I kept saying to myself it didn’t matter what other thought. But it did. It does.

If you are a writer, and/or someone who has something to say, you want to be heard. There is a fine line between listening to your heart and pleasing others. As a (successful) writer you have to do both, I guess. If you want to be read. But how do you do this? How do you find out what others find interesting? What can I do to make my writing appeal to other people?

My Mount Everest

The whole time, when a book felt too big a project, I thought about writing for film, TV, the stage, poetry… I thought maybe copywriting could work. Anything that had to do with writing (and through which I could earn a living) – except writing a novel. A novel is like the Mount Everest of writing, and I’m not a mountain climber!

Writing is haunting me in a way. The need or urge never goes away. I manage to surpress it at times, but when I do I just feel sad. Writing is my way of expressing myself. Yes fine, but I also want to reach people. I’m looking for my niche, my tribe of readers, a group of like-minded people who can understand where I’m coming from.

If I’m not supposed to be a writer, why can’t I stop longing to be one? What is right about this situation that I’m not getting?