Writing

Failure has been on my mind a lot lately. I feel as though I have failed a lot. I am a failure. That, however, is selling myself short and couldn’t be farther from the truth. I understand that. Really. The problem is I have never really invested myself into the things I do. I really began to realize this the other night.

I began reading “Running With the Buffaloes” for the second time in my life. The first time was my sophomore year of high school. My cross country coach strongly encouraged his runners to read it, so I borrowed his copy and read it. This time around, however, I realized that I was the number 8/number 9 guy on our team for a reason: I didn’t put in the effort.

I graduated college with a 3.08 GPA. My high school was worse (after adjusting to a 4 point scale) if I remember right. For many, that seems like a good GPA, respectable, maybe even great. There is no reason, however, that I didn’t have a 3.7 or better. I didn’t put effort into school, though. I never have. I skipped anywhere between 33-60% of my classes. I didn’t care. In all reality, I shouldn’t have gone to college. At least not right away.

For the past couple of months, I have strongly been considering my writing. Do I have what it takes? Can I make even a supplemental income with my writing? I do not expect to write a New York Times best seller or be a well-known journalist. I just want to write, and maybe see it somewhere than here. Maybe add some cash to my pocket outside of what I end up doing with my life.

It’s been about a year since I decided writing is something I wanted to do. It’s been nearly a year since I started having incurable writer’s block. Maybe this is God’s way of saying no.

In the past couple of weeks, I have asked people close to me, those who know my writing best, those that would be most honest whether or not I have what it takes. Is my writing any good? I have support. True, honest support. My parents support me. I know this because they bought me journals for Christmas last year. I know this because they do this even though they don’t always like my decisions I make with my time, but continue to give me the tools to continue to follow my heart. This support is relieving; it is scary.

I have been digging into Stephen King’s “On Writing”. It has fueled my desire to write. It has also added to my increasing fear. Writing (successfully) takes a lot of work. It is not something to be taken lightly. King seems unable to stress this point enough.

I have my track history with my lack of effort. If I really want to write, I have to change some things in my life. I need to actually try; I need to put in effort. Right now I want this. I hope the support I have, especially with those I have talked to recently, continues and will drive me.

I do believe I can be a good writer…or at least that I have what it takes. I can attribute some of that to my childhood. My creativity was at an all time high. I was always reading and read an incredible number of books. I didn’t write much then. In high school, I began to develop my writing while still reading a decent number of books. Usually not my assigned reading, simply books I wanted to read. In college, I wrote a little and my reading became nearly extinct. Now, I want to drastically increase both.

My foundation has been laid. I am still filling my toolbox and will soon begin framing my house. The building is about to begin. I have investors who seem to have open pockets. I hope I find my tools and trust my skill and build. I hope my investors never fail to give when I need it. The time is now.