2 Feb 2016
I feel like singing a little Adele. “Hello, It’s Me.” I haven’t been gone for a couple of years, but it’s been quite a while. I could say all the cliché lines like, “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting this space.” “I’ve been so busy.” “I didn’t have time,” etc. But it just isn’t the truth. The truth is the longer I didn’t type a word, the longer I thought I had nothing to say. I lost my confidence that my words mattered to anyone, most of all me.
That’s why I started writing in the first place. Because I needed the words. I needed them to flow out of me. There were things I needed to say and it seemed like the best place. And then I got caught up in wondering if anyone else was reading. Why weren’t more people reading? Did anyone even care? And then I got a magazine in the mail.
My grandpa sent me his copy of “Writer’s Digest” and said that if I liked it, he’d get me subscription for my birthday. That gesture spoke volumes to me. He knows I love to write. He figured I’d enjoy reading about writing. He sees me as a writer.
I might have two half-finished books on my computer and a blog I’ve neglected for months, but I’m still a writer. My guitars may live in closets, lonely, but I’m still a writer. My lack of self-confidence isn’t going to change that. The desire is still in there. The drive still speaks to me at times when I’m not expecting it. It whispers, “you could write about this.” Even if I think there’s no one reading, there will always be that one person that finds that I’m speaking to them. That one person that believes in me enough to send me a magazine.