A Journey…Interrupted

Welcome to my journey. I’m not sure where it will take me, but if you’re coming along, I think you should know how it started and why I decided to start this blog.

The five year old storyteller

The journey began when I was about four or five years old. Looking back, I believe I’ve always been a storyteller, but at four or five I began to write my stories down. I recently helped my mother clean out old items from her house and I soon discovered crayon and marker letters covering multi-colored construction paper. These one page fantasies introduced “princessessesses” and wonderful adventures (I had a bit of difficulty with spelling…thank God for spellcheck now!).

Discovering these one page stories left me both warm and sad. I smiled, realizing that words are in my DNA…I’m a writer and always have been. But then the sadness began to creep in…where had the words gone?

The teenage poet

That’s an easy and hard question all at once. Because the words didn’t disappear right away. As a matter of fact, the word flow turned into a deluge during my teenage years. As we continued to clean out things from Mom’s house, the construction paper stories of princesses turned to moody and angsty poetry of a pre-teen and teenager. I’d write poems on anything! Soon, there was a nice size pile of receipts, napkins, facial tissue, paper towels covered with scribbled emotions and expressed pain and elation (you all know the roller coaster of emotions from teens!).

I wrote throughout middle school…throughout high school…and even into college. I had compiled enough words to have a book of poems (with many left over), the start of a fictional novel, and an idea for a TV series script.

And then the words just stopped.

The wordless adult (a.k.a. Рthe Fearful One)

For the longest time I told myself that I didn’t have time to write anymore. I had too many other things to do. Work. Family. Social Life. Responsibilities.

Though all of these were very real, they became my excuses. And soon I began to believe the lie that I didn’t have anything else to write. My days as a writer were over. I’d grown out of the dreams and fantasies. As Anita Baker sang, “No more fairytales.”

But do you want to know the truth?

The truth was that the words never stopped…it was just that fear started. Fear, that dreaded four-letter “f” word that has derailed many a dreams, crippled many a visions, and stopped the flow of my words. I feared that my words sucked. That I didn’t have anything “good” to share. That no one wanted to read my writing anyway. Lie upon lie built up like bricks to form a wall of silence.

The storyteller became mute.

“So if you have no words, why write a blog?”

Great question. So glad you asked. See, even though I believed the lies that fear was yelling at me, no one else believed them. My family, friends, even strangers kept bugging me encouraging me to write.

“Tiffany, when are you going to finish the novel?”

“Tiffany, when are you going to publish your poems?”

“Tiffany, what’s your next writing project?”

“Tiffany…”

“Tiffany…”

“Tiffany…”

“…write.”

I finally went to God and asked Him what He wanted me to do. You know what He said?

You guessed it.

Write.

Face my fears.

But do it with support.

Thus the blog.


Next time, I’ll share a bit more about how I’m planning to tackle this fear of writing thing. But until then, is there something in your life that you feel is your calling, your dream, your vision? And have you let fear stop you from pursuing it? I’d love to hear from you below in the comments!