It is always scary to take the first leap, but if you manage it, only then will you find out what you’re made off.
I have started to write again, I scared myself, to the point that for a long time I was unable to look at my work, it gave me anxiety to think of how much I had to change and how much I had to do. Unable to face that I was scared, I used the fact that I had a new job as an excuse, making out that I was just too busy for writing that there was a place in my life for writing just now. When in reality I just wanted to hide from how much I actually have to do, and wanted to bury my head in the sand. What was I to do? What was there for me to do? I took a deep breath and jumped in, and only now have I begun to wade through the notes I’ve made and the feedback I’ve gotten and started to make a plan. It has been something that I have needed to do but not necessarily something I have enjoyed, it almost feels as though I have gone back to the beginning and started again. I started it a long time ago, but I lost my rhythm and I couldn’t see there ever being an end to it. It is a blow to my confidence but as I am fleshing everything out it is becoming clear that this was my best option and I couldn’t have gone forward without it.