I’m finding this whole new world of writing and the reading about writing (i.e. the writer’s journey) rather exhilarating. I feel like I’m finally finding my own feet – the feet with actual flesh and bones and nerves – not the heavy, titanium knee-high boots I convinced myself to put on every day because, well, they were just oh so shiny. So very red and shiny and presumably magical, if the Wizard of Oz was anything to go by.
I put those boots on every day since I stepped into uni, with the hope that they would one day make me fly.
Surprisingly, I did fly. Not that I would have forgiven myself for anything less back then. In hindsight, I flew higher than I ever thought I could in the time it took me to get there.
But the boots were heavy. Stupidly heavy. It was taking every ounce of my being to get them off the ground each morning, when it ‘should’ have been like breathing. It took much more energy than I thought I even had in me to sustain my flight day after day. I began dreading putting on those shiny red titanium boots each morning. I would look at them and start crying, then look at them again to see if I was merely allergic to something in the room (Life, perhaps, har), nope, and start crying again. All before I’ve even had my morning coffee. All before I even got dressed for the day. Yep, very red. Red flags everywhere.
So for now, at least, I’ve put them boots away. Life is too short to be suffering long term when you have a choice not to. Even if that means having to confront another type of risk head on.
I may not be a published author, or even have a published article or a well-received blog. Heck I don’t even have a story line nutted out in my head to say, “I’m working on a novel”. Also, apparently writing for a living really isn’t the most lucrative business out there. But something in me stirs every time I read, something in me ignites every time I write.
I don’t care if I don’t write the next novel-turned-shitty-but-profitable-hollywood-blockbuster. I just want to be able to make someone else’s heart tremble – with joy, with sorrow, with bittersweetness or even fear. All but with a set of carefully chosen words.
I want to make someone fall in love.
And I’ve a long way to go.