Chapter 1: The Silence of Writing

I took a significant break from writing—specifically, from March to mid-June, my output dwindled to almost nothing. It wasn’t that I abandoned writing entirely; throughout most of May, while we were busy on the farm, I still made time to write on many mornings. I had convinced myself that my writing was purely for my own benefit, but that was a misleading thought.

What really happened? Something derailed my writing journey. Like a young child hesitant to confront the unknown lurking in a closet, I found myself hesitant to write.

What caused this hesitation?

I began publishing articles on Medium in January. Initially, everything flowed smoothly; I aimed for two articles a week and consistently met or exceeded that goal for over two months. My audience grew as expected, and I envisioned reaching the New York Times bestseller list.

However, by mid-March, my writing output slowed dramatically. By April, I had completely halted. I felt spooked, retreating beneath the comfort of my metaphorical blankets until I felt safe enough to emerge.

On days I didn’t write, I often claimed it was due to my busy schedule on the farm—an excuse that held some truth during the hectic days of May and early June. When I did attempt to write, my efforts felt disorganized, lacking a clear direction. I produced lengthy journal entries that could have been transformed into compelling articles, yet they remain untouched in my Day One journal app.

What led to this stagnation? Did I lose interest? Confidence? Motivation?

It took time, but I eventually uncovered the truth—admitting it was a challenge. The crux of the issue? I was scared.

What was I afraid of? I still haven’t pinpointed it. Perhaps some insidious doubt crept into my mind, convincing me my writing wasn’t good enough. If that were true, why share it with others? Every writer grapples with this internal battle, facing voices that undermine their worth.

Was I fearful of offending others? Quite likely. Just before my decline in writing, I published a review of a local store where I mistakenly used an insensitive term. Sharing it in local Facebook groups led to harsh criticism from readers, which lingered in my mind. Despite my good intentions, I couldn’t shake the impact of that mistake. Admittedly, I care about how others perceive my work.

I’ve always taken risks in my writing, often pushing boundaries by addressing topics that others may shy away from. It was only a matter of time before I faced backlash for a misstep. I simply wasn’t prepared for the fallout, and as a result, my confidence took a significant hit.

With my self-assurance diminished, I found myself unable to complete even a single article. A promising idea would emerge, and I’d develop it to 70-80% completion before losing momentum. I experimented with various writing formats, journals, and even scraps of paper, but nothing felt satisfying. My lifelong habit of procrastination reared its head, leading me to believe this was merely typical behavior.

Weeks turned into a cycle of writing without publishing. When I failed to finish a piece, I reassured myself that it was just for me, promising I’d return when I felt ready.

Success is Terrifying

The prospect of success as a writer intimidates me profoundly. This fear extends to any achievement in my life, as my subconscious still clings to the belief that I am destined to fail.

As a child, I often found myself in trouble and developed a rebellious streak against authority. This reputation followed me into adulthood, leading me to navigate life with minimal effort.

When you believe you’re a loser long enough, that notion becomes ingrained. Therefore, it’s no surprise that the thought of becoming a successful writer terrifies me.

Over the past year, I have been working deeply on understanding myself. Confronting childhood traumas has heightened my self-awareness. However, changing the belief that I am a perpetual failure isn’t an overnight task; it requires persistent effort and introspection.

Experiencing setbacks is a part of the journey. I often remind my children to get back on their bikes after falling, illustrating that we all face challenges and must rise again.

What reignited my passion for writing was a scene from one of my favorite films, Cool Hand Luke, featuring the charismatic Paul Newman. In a memorable moment, the character engages in a boxing match with a fellow inmate. Despite being knocked down, Luke persists, embodying resilience as he repeatedly gets back up.

The writing journey mirrors that fight scene in Cool Hand Luke. Setbacks are inevitable; the key is not to give up. I nearly succumbed to despair, but I’m grateful I didn’t because that would have been a true loss.

While I may not achieve the fame of Stephen King or Dean Koontz, I have valuable insights to share that can help others. My experiences, both positive and negative, have taught me valuable lessons worth communicating.

As I grow older, I accumulate wisdom, and it would be a disservice to keep that to myself.

So, here’s to returning to the essentials and embracing the writing process once more. Writing brings me joy, especially when I pour my heart into it.

As Tony Soprano once expressed after a therapy session:

"Coming here sometimes feels like taking a big shit."

Writing, to me, is a cathartic release of thoughts, fears, and worries. It’s a liberating experience, often occurring before anyone else has the opportunity to read it.

That release is the reward—the feeling of lightness, akin to the relief after a long-awaited bathroom break. Writing allows us to unburden ourselves, and that’s the essence of why we write. Our only true fear should be our inner demons, which we must confront head-on.

Acknowledging my fears has brought me back into the fold of writing. This creative pursuit is a vital part of who I am, and I can hardly believe I ever considered quitting.

It’s perfectly natural to have fears, whether they stem from the fear of failure or success. We must confront what intimidates us, facing it boldly—there is no alternative.

Chapter 2: Embracing Vulnerability

The first video, "Nothing But Thieves - Excuse Me (Official Video)," captures the essence of confronting fears and emotions through music. It serves as a reminder of the power of vulnerability in art.

The second video, "Excuse me while I freak out, my entire childhood is in question right now," resonates with anyone grappling with their past and the fears that emerge from it. It highlights the importance of addressing our inner struggles.