The Terror of Writing

Terror of WritingI transcribe my soul in black and white letters. Scour, cut, purge. The writing must be raw and naked. Formality and acquaintance will not do. If I am going to write well I must bear the bloody pumping of my heart.

But what if you laugh at the oddity I uncover?

I take that risk. I do not have the luxury of privacy. If I hold my acquaintances at an arms’ length like any normal person would, you will call me dry and phony.

I may not even know you, yet I must expose the deepest corners of my mind.

I could say writing is frightening because one must excise the academic talk and be concrete. But you would find that boring and un-empathetic.

No, I must let you traverse my mind and experience my heart. I must let you live my fears and joys. Sure, many of my topics and characters are not about me. But I can only write what I feel deeply, because emotion is the life blood of writing. Thus, writing is always the transcription of my life blood.

Oblivious to the world, my heart leaps as I free my deepest experiences. But fear emerges as I leave my oblivion. Will you jeer at my heart? Will you think my personality a misfit? Will you ask what’s wrong with me?

Maybe I’ll be more accepted if I keep my writing to myself. Or maybe someone will benefit from my exposure. I’m banking on the latter.

Photo credit Gideon Wright.


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