"Some day I am going to write a novel."
These words are spoken by most lovers of reading, books and language, and I am no exception. Oh, I have written for years as part of my job. I can write a clear and concise business letter or news story better than most. My advertorial copy for a worthy foundation can make you want to whip out your checkbook and donate right away, but where is my voice?
I've prepared for "writing my novel" my whole life. I've done all the things that successful writers recommend, particularly reading good books. James Michener always asked aspiring writers what they were reading. "How can you expect be a great writer if you are not a reader of great books?" Advice I have taken to heart and always will. But for the last year or so, I have become more and more disenchanted with writing for others and more compelled to write for myself. Author Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones (a gem filled with practical advice and exercises) tells you to just do it. Write. Write every day. Write about anything. Write what you know and write about things that scare you and push your boundaries. Just do it and you will hear your voice and it will become stronger.
As if that wasn't enough of a push, I recently reconnected with a dear friend after losing touch over the years. She writes her own blog, www.velvetsacks.blogspot.com, which I am reading and feeling, once again, the power of written words to bring us together. She has been so supportive and encouraging of my writing a blog that I am having trouble thinking of excuses not to do it anymore.
So, here it is. I am taking the first step of an adventure. That orange button at the bottom of this page, Publish Post, is daring me to click it. Do I have the courage?