…and I wonder if I’ll ever get better. Well, there’s always try, I guess.
Today is the final day of 2011. A year that, by all accounts, I’d rather forget. But a year that ultimately taught me how I don’t want to live. Of course, change is the hard part.
However, I have much to be thankful for too. Particularly, more fiction writing than I have ever had to show for any one year of my life. A serial novel – the prospect of which still scares the crap out of me even though it is launching tomorrow – that wasn’t yet a twinkle in my eye twelve months ago.
This is going to sound terrible, I know that, even though it was well-intentioned. But in many ways I was raised to believe that I would fail in any creative endeavour I attempted. This conditioning was supposed to channel my intelligence towards medicine or law or whatever, but all it ultimately did was mould me into a desperately creative person with failure issues to the point of neurosis. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that, but it’s part of the truth of who I am.
I know some of you are going to say, “but you’re so confident and successful.” And I say, to a point. I still have to slay the self-doubt dragon each and every day. And doing to a certain degree is a necessity for survival.
I’m been writing fiction in secret for years, and maybe that’s another reason why I never finished any of the novels, because I knew I’d never have the courage to show them to anyone, so no matter how much I loved doing it, it seemed pointless.
That’s the other thing this past year taught me, that I don’t want to be so afraid anymore and certainly not based on something that was said to me more than a half a lifetime ago. I want to get past that, so I can live whatever life I was meant to live.
I mean this in regards to my writing and the bigger picture as well.
My only resolution is to continue this journey I’m on in 2012.
Because at the end awaits something like freedom.