complex.

Well, as alarming as it feels, I think I am finally having a concrete thought. I’ll do my best to get it out in clear English, but I make no promises. Lately, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, my intelligence (really now?) has been on a bit of a hiatus… oh wait, that implies that this post is going to be intelligent. Nope, can’t promise that either.


Elise and I were chatting yesterday, and we got onto the subject of books (after discussing many things, including the fact that it is now cooler to be a nerd than to be cool. Thank God). Most of you know it’s been a goal of mine for some time now to actually write one, or three or five. So for me, this subject always piques my interest…and sends my confidence into an observation room. What is it that draws people to books, what do smart people (like my friend Elise) like about reading, writing styles, and plot lines? And then I wonder….what if I suck? What if, at the end of the day, my books and writing are terrible?

Part of me wants to believe that I wouldn’t love doing something this much if I didn’t have some kind of talent for it. But then another part of my brain brings to mind all the crappy singers with heart, or the many paintings I’ve seen where the wrong eye is closer to the front.

I’ve realized that I am a lot more afraid of rejection or mockery than I like to think I am; that maybe, it actually does matter to me what people think (dang, and I had tried so hard to be counter-cultural and not care). But does this mean I stop doing what I love because I am afraid some people won’t like it? This is the idea I can’t settle on, regardless of my insecurities.

I know so. many. artists. Every day I am blessed to encounter some form of that art inside of my daily routine: whether it’s checking blogs or listening to music or hearing the artist speak – I love seeing people work their gifts; it’s unbelievably energizing. I think my favourite part about knowing so many artists is that I get to see imperfection at its best; I know the people behind the paintings and the photos and the music, and I love that they are human. I love that in their humanity, they produce beautiful art.

My journey to becoming a successful writer is only in its beginning stages (I don't even know yet how I should define 'successful'). I have so much to do, and so much more to learn. I feel like a bit of a toddler in this arena, as if my words are somehow nonsensical in comparison to my favourite books. Regardless, I think I’ll keep trying.

And hopefully, I don’t end up as a feature on this blog ...unless, of course, I’m a guest writer.