Hello, my name is Mark and I am an insecure writer. Pause as the cloud responds: “Hello, Mark.” I just discovered that the first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group Day IWSG and I’m fully ready to support and generally commiserate with my fellow insecure writes.
For the most part writes are a neurotic bunch. I see all those who know me nodding in agreement. Over the years, I’ve had 8 short stories published in five small market zines, six of which are now defunct (Hmm, a connection perhaps?). Now I have a novel out on Amazon and B&N along with a short story series I’m collaborating on, not to mention a couple of other projects in the works. And you know what? I’m nervous. I'm insecure. Always.
There’s always a fear lurking in the back recesses of my mind: who in the world wants to read something from a country hick living in Leechburg PA? The same is definitely true with blogging. In many ways, I still equate the marketing end of writing with narcissism. I’m still uncomfortable doing it even though I’ve been blogging for nearly a year now. How could anyone find my words, my posts, my thoughts interesting?
Still I write. There’s something inside that claws at me, that won’t let me go. Perhaps it’s the same feeling a young athlete feels as he dreams of reaching the major leagues or the NFL. The odds are stacked, but that doesn’t stop him from dreaming and working toward his goal.
I am a writer.
I paint pictures with words,
I create characters who come to life and become so real to me.
I am a writer. I nervously put my words out there for the world to see, never knowing what will happen. Maybe there will be silence. Maybe there will be rejection. But even if one person enjoys my words, even if one person is touched by the worlds I paint, then the effort is worth it . . . all my fears and insecurities be damned.