Throughout several of my posts, I elude to the fact that for one reason or another over the years I pushed myself to fail. I convinced myself that I could not write, until one day, several months ago, I stopped saying, "I can't" and said, "I could." When it was finished, and I published last week, I began telling people of the accomplishment, and I found out I was not alone.
I was amazed at the number of people who said, "I want to write, I have a great story!"
Now I ask, "Then why don't you sit down and write?."
Their reply is usually, "Oh no, I don't think that I'm good enough, or who would read it?"
On and on they would talk and give me several reasons why they could not do it, and not one person gave me a reason why they could. That was my problem, too many excuses on why I could not, and not enough of why I could and should. I had to ask myself, is that the main difference between the masses of people who go through life, only to realize that all they have done for themselves is exist?
Writers, no matter what caliber, are a special enclave of people. Each one an individual unto himself or herself, and each one is a doer. However, the higher one reaches, the thinner the village becomes.
I am no more than one in a million who has finally accepted the gift that we have bestowed on ourselves. Has it been easy to this point, absolutely not, but that is just it! It is not meant to be easy, and for many of us, after completing the first book, the big question is, would we want to start all over again, and create another story?
Granted, my first book was a challenge, but it is the second, third, and forth that I will begin to really know what caliber of writer I have become. As for an audience, I am not going to please everybody, for that matter, I might not please anybody, I just don't know. I will learn from my critics, and appreciate their honesty.
I come back to the title of this post, "Why Did I Write a Book?" My answer, "I owed it to myself, because I wasted too many years saying that I couldn't!"