I met with a friend today that I hadn’t seen in a long time. We go all the way back to our high school paper. After high school we went in different directions, pursuing different interests. I went on to social work and writing became my hobby rather than my Job. He continued his writing career for a few years before abandoning it for steady pay.
So today when I asked him why he gave up on writing, it surprised me to hear him say he wasn’t good enough. By who’s measure? His answer was evasive and critical. I realized that the problem wasn’t that “everyone” said he wasn’t good enough to be a writer, HE believed he couldn’t measure up.
I write because I enjoy it. I’m passionate about the myriad of ways that thought and emotions can be laid out before us. Music, poetry, and even novels reach down to the core of who I am. I don’t write for “likes”, or to impress people. I write with no expectation that another will appreciate it. I write for me, and when a piece of work is finished I believe it’s good enough.