Good morning and welcome to the February Edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. If you aren't familiar with the IWSG or if you want to sign up, click HERE and you'll soon be on your way to joining us for our monthly posts of insecurities and encouragements.
There's a corner in our tiny house that is stacked with boxes. Yesterday I went through those boxes and did some pruning. While doing so, I found a box I thought had long been discarded. It was filled with old files of old story ideas. Tucked into one of the old notebooks was something I'd written two Septembers ago:
In order to move forward some things must be left behind. In order to grow there must be pruning. Things must be trimmed back and tied up before they can stand on their own.
Then the supports are removed and you realize how deep your roots go.
Pairing down from 1600 sq. feet to 700 sq. feet definitely required some pruning but there were things I refused to let go of. The storage shed under our carport can attest to that. Cleaning out the clutter-corner also showed me there are things I'm clinging to that should be let go. Things that are clogging up my creative arteries. They aren't bad. In fact, they are things that people SEE and LOVE and WANT. The problem is they aren't really the direction I should be headed.
We all have a light that shines on the path we need to take. It's a dim light and there are always brighter ones trying to distract. For YEARS I've let the brighter, flashier things steer me down smoother transitions and less pot-marked roads. Sure, I tell myself, it will be rough going but at least the hope of success appears closer.
Yesterday I unboxed those old stories, let them breathe. I boxed up some of those flashing lights. A few I have to tend to before I can say goodbye completely but the freedom in shedding some dead skin is such a relief. In letting go of what I thought was the best idea, I found - no - rekindled a deep passion, a passion I thought had died three years ago.
Funny but it was still there, shining, begging me to turn around, asking my feet to dance. Am I insecure about this decision? No. Just a little annoyed by what people may say. But just a little, only because the last thing you need when you FINALLY get on the Right Road is nay-sayers telling you what you SHOULD be up to.
Follow your own light, Dear Reader. It's the only way to forge your own path and write your true story. And don't be afraid if the road looks rugged. It's in the brambles and the hedges and the dark forests that the mysteries lie.