Some days (quite a few recently) I don't feel much like a writer. Why did I ever think I could do this? In fact, to be honest there's a voice inside my head that mercilessly laughs at the idea that I could ever even think of becoming a writer. With what talent and what voice, it taunts. And even more, it wonders what I could possibly even have to say that would be worth listening to?
This semester, I'm in a creative writing class that makes me feel like I'm far out of my league. Every class, I sit and listen to the creativity and color my classmates have put down on paper and I feel like I have nothing to match that.
I should probably tell you about the other voice I hear. It's much quieter and calmer. It doesn't really draw attention to itself, it's just there- solid. I guess we could name this voice Faith. Faith, while it's quieter, it's also much stronger. Deeper. It that tells me what I know: that writing is what I'm suppose to do. So even though I feel like I'm constantly hitting my head against the wall in this class, I have to keep going, because I know writing is my thing. Faith tells me that sometime on some day, it's going to click and the words will come. The other voice tells me it won't be for a L-O-N-G time, so I tell it to shutup.
So for now, I'll keep trying because that's all I really can do. That, and keep an ear out for Faith.