It has taken me a long time to get started, far longer than it should have. While I can’t say that I have wasted my time, I haven’t really been pursuing that which makes me happiest. I have waited, creeping in the corner, hoping for some sign that was never coming. Trapped in indecision.

Nothing new there.

Which is exactly why getting started has taken me so long. The lizard part of my brain, my doubt and insecurity, keeps licking at my fears and whispering that I have nothing new to say.

And I listen. I stew. I sit in my anxiety and worry about the words that I should or shouldn’t use, or if there is any point to saying anything at all.

Haven’t we said everything at this point? Haven’t you heard all the stories you could ever hear? Seen all the movies? Heard all the songs?

If there is nothing new to say, why bother saying anything at all?

Stupid lizard brain.

If we spoke only for information, that might be true.  If the stories we told were purely instructional, it might have a point.  If we only listened to music we had never heard before, there would be no such things as ‘classics’.

I write for a very specific audience of one.  Not necessarily for you, not even for me, but for that one person who wants to listen -needs to read- whatever story I have written for the day.  What I am writing isn’t targeted, I am not trying to speak to a specific person, but I am trying to touch a soul.

That’s why I need to stop worrying about the how or why or if I am any good.  It doesn’t matter if I top the bestseller’s list or win any awards.

I feel I have something to share, I have stories to tell, so -from now on- I’m going to get on to telling them.