There are a host of thoughts rushing through my mind at the time of this writing.
Perhaps, I am writing as an acknowledgement of the apprehension I harbor at confronting the specter of doubt that periodically haunts me, but it would be foolhardy for me to ignore its presence.
As I comb through a litany of words, thoughts, feelings and experiences. That have migrated from the deepest recesses of my mind now inhabiting the confines of expandable USB drives, countless notebooks and number of blogs and websites.
And… I still find myself wondering. Is there a future for me, writing?
If there is, I audibly find myself questioning the logic behind the declaration “I am a writer”. Am I worthy of this mantle?
Often, I feel unworthy to hold the pen, to sit at the keyboard, typing words for consumption. What is it that I have wrought that makes me worthy?
Ever since I was a little boy, I implicitly understood the power of words and I wanted to wield that power for myself. I’ve been chasing it ever since and I’m wondering when I will catch it.
But… Having the distinct privilege to be in the presence, albeit electronically, of people whose literary prowess far trumps my own.
It is a sense of confirmation, that maybe you know something that I don’t. Each “like” and “comment” that is given in response to something that I have written serves as fuel, as confirmation that maybe I am figuring it, slowly but surely.
To my small but dedicated cadre of readers. I thank you; I treasure you; words don’t do justice in expressing my appreciation. It is the encouragement that you freely give, by your literary patronage that empowers me to forge ahead.
Thanks for being there to constantly push me out of the corner and into the ring. Sometimes it is easy to forget that life is not unlike a 12 round boxing match… Ding!