There are these moments when I’m driving, cleaning, working, talking with someone, or whatever I’m doing with my day/time. These moments when an idea pops into my head for a post. Something to write about and publish. Then I usually mull it over for a while, sometimes it even gets put into that Word document I keep on my desktop called “new writing.”
But lately, those ideas, those baby posts, those truth telling moments that flow from my fingertips when I just need to process the world, they have not made it into this space. They never get to see the “New Post” page for me to hit the publish button on.
And I’ve been trying lately to understand why that keeps happening. Why am I editing myself so much? Why am I so afraid to put them out there and let my voice be heard?
It could be that there seems to be so much noise on the internet these days, so many posts and open letters. Every day it seems I see more and more writers putting their two cents into the world. Some of them are good, some of them I disagree with, and some feel more like a plea for publicity than the gut wrenchingly difficult out pour of one’s story.
It also could be the fear of being misunderstood. Sometimes the life of a writer means you put all this effort into writing something and then it gets misconceived or someone pulls out one part to dismantle and disagree with. Or they misunderstand and therefore place pity on the writer. There are so many ways to be misunderstood and the people pleaser within me can’t stand that possibility.
So for a season I turned down my own voice and started to turn up the voices of other writers in my life. I’ve intentionally diversified the people I’m reading and listening to in order to find my own space in this writing world. The thing that I keep coming face to face with is the need for shared stories. For the world to see the various perspectives that we each bring.
What I’ve started to see in this time is that no one out there has my voice. No one has lived this life quite the way that I have. It doesn’t make me less than or more than anyone else, just uniquely and specifically me. And if this is the story I’ve been given, entrusted with, isn’t it time I stopped caring so deeply about what others think of me and actually started to use this voice God gave me?
Not for my own boasting or show boating. And not because I think I’m the one who has it all right. But because my voice matters. All of our voices matter. If I’m going to complain because I’m tired of reading the same opinions from the same people of privilege and power, then I better be willing to put my ring in the hat.
So I guess this is my declaration of writing independence. I will no longer be deterred by the “what ifs” of the world around me. I will ask for people to hold me accountable to my writing (and posting). I will shake off the fear that I am not doing it right.
Here’s to hitting “Publish” a little more often.
adventures in living an abundant life