A Fear I Have Run From

I have only alluded to it, but this journey, walking every street in Paris, is as much a journey for me into writing as walking. 

I have written all my life, but have, more often than not, been too afraid to share my work. I am not afraid to share my fiction or poetry, but my nonfiction, which is what I write the most of and what I admire the most in other writers. My favorite books are memories, true and honest, almost brutally so. 

Years ago, when I was a teenager, I promised myself I would never lie — and I won’t go into the details of why I promised this — but I have lived by this. I did not expect later in life to chase the far extreme, to write about the self and to understand and expose it, to discover the greater truth of my existence and what makes me human. But this is what I love the most, trying to understand myself and others.

Writing, I have found, is the best outlet for me to do this. Of course, there are so many possibilities, I am often overwhelmed by all there is to understand and all the journeys one can take in doing so. I sometimes like to imagine I am a historian or a painter or an architect. I imagine. I am good at imagining, perhaps too good.

I am launching this blog today, the first day of autumn. I knew I would be afraid to share what I have written — and I have imagined other writers’ fears when they put their writing into the world — but I did not expect to be as afraid as I am. I do not know how to combat this fear, I have tried to talk myself out of it many times, but rationality does not work when you’re afraid of something, especially as this is a logical fear to me. 

There is nothing I can say, no words to be spoken or listened to, because my mind is too good at convincing me of this fear and coming up with more reasons, more excuses to be afraid. My soul says, write, share what you have written, and then it is quiet as if that is all that needs to be said and it is. 

It is a beautiful feeling to follow the soul when the mind disagrees, beautiful but terrifying. It is beautiful because you know you have chosen the right direction, you know this because the logical path is often in the opposite direction.

I have not lived a conventional life and I have followed both the soul and the mind many times and I know what it is like to feel like I have failed in doing so. The choices I regret in my life are punctuated by logic. 

So I am writing and I will continue to write, but I have reached an impasse now in which I must share my writing. I am going to stop arguing with myself and listen now to the quiet.