Obviously I haven’t been as consistent with my blogging here as I could have been. There are lots of reasons excuses, none of which are really good. Fear is the largest one, fear that what I write isn’t good enough, isn’t interesting enough, isn’t important enough. Isn’t “enough” enough.

Today I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter. If I want to write, then I should write. And if I want to get better at writing and tap back into the creative flow that I used to have, I need to write. Just write.

It has been a weird past few months, culminating in an almost existential crisis this past week where I seriously wondered what I was doing with my life and what my purpose was. So many of my family and friends have jobs where they directly help people – educators, medical professionals, counselors, therapists – and I feel like my job doesn’t matter. Sometimes I don’t think it even matters to my company, because so many of the things I’ve worked on over the past few years have been canceled before they were complete. It has made me feel a bit lost and wondering if I should find a new job where I have more impact. I don’t need to change the world, but it would be nice to feel a personal satisfaction with my work. Except the jobs that I am drawn to are not ones I could really make a living doing… at least not comfortably. My current job may not be where my heart is, but it is financially secure.

It’s really easy to say “money isn’t everything” or “money shouldn’t be the main concern” except I have seen what happens on the other end of that mindset and I am not willing to risk that. I am my own (and my only) safety net. Cutting it because I’m feeling bored or unfulfilled at my current job is not a good long-term plan.

Maybe it’s not a question of finding a job that fulfills me and provides satisfaction, but maybe a hobby. In many ways, writing used to be that hobby. Twenty years ago I would bring a spiral notebook with me to work and write in the cafeteria during lunch and on break. I still remember the feeling of surprise and revelation while writing a scene from “Renegade” and discovering Joshua knew that Vin was innocent. Joshua saying “Shame, too, them hanging an innocent man and all” came out of nowhere, and it surprised me as much as it surprised Vin. It was one of the times I remember feeling so drawn into a story that it just flowed.

Unfortunately around that time is also when I began over-thinking my writing because I realized people were actually reading it, and I discovered that the cast members from The Magnificent Seven were aware of my website where the story was posted. The thought of Rick Worthy reading my interpretation of Nathan still has the power to make me cringe. I started worrying about “what the audience would think of it” and self-edited to the point that I lost the feeling of flow. Writing became more a source of anxiety than an escape, and eventually I stopped.

I still have stories in my head, plots in my notes, stories I’ve thought of over the years that I would love to get on paper, but have let the anxiety of “what the audience would think of it” keep me from putting them down. If I can let go of that anxiety and find the flow again, maybe that world-building and writing will offer the satisfaction that I’m not finding in my job right now.

The only way to find out is to just write.