My stomach is creaking and groaning like planks in an old wooden porch. I am restless fingers and a timid heart. They hover above the keyboard tentative. Backspace devours the words as fast as I get them down. Nothing comes out right.
I’ve imagined what my words would look like spread out a bit more. I keep a tiny corner of the internet with a readership I know mostly by name. But I dream in those quiet hours, when the clacking of my keyboard staves off the dark, that my words might find purpose in the wider world. I’ve wondered what they would sound like stretched wider across the internet and I’ll tell you, I’m a teeny bit terrified.
I’ve always known you never arrive. You never get to a point where you look around and think, “Yes, I’ve got this whole writing thing down. I’m set.” No, if anything, the further your story goes, the scarier it is. Read more
Today I’m writing over at (in)courage for the first time as a contributor. Won’t you join me there?