I've been avoiding writing for a long time. Perhaps you've noticed. It's spilled into my blogging. Slightly.
But the other day, I had a revelation that freed me from the shackles of avoidyness that I was kind of confused by, since I wanted to write, and I had things to write, but for some reason, was not writing.
I read a book. It was the third in a trilogy. It was good. It was just fine and I didn't have any problem with it. My thought was, "That was a good ending." It didn't blow my mind, but it didn't disappoint.
And then, I got hooked on that word: Good. It was good. This author is one I consider to be quite talented. I figure this author will continue to be successful, as well they should be. Because they are a good writer. They write good books.
(Are we sick of the word good yet? Is it starting to look like a fake word? Good good good good good good good good whoa I have to stop.)
So, here's what hit me. The book was good. I'll even shake things up and say it was great.
But it wasn't perfect.
And for some reason, when I thought of that, I also thought, The person who wrote it, was just a person.
And I was struck by this notion that I had burdened myself with, that I couldn't write this story that I love so much, I couldn't do it justice, because I'm not perfect. And therefore, I can't get the story perfect.
But guess what? I can make it good. And I can be a good writer. And I can get better every day.
So, once again, time to take off my self-inflicted pressure suit and remember that I might not be perfect, but I can be good. And that's something I can control.