I’ve been working on my novel for the better part of four years. I’ve been researching, snowflake method-ing, Book in 30 Day-ing and NaNoWriMo-ing.

I’ve been:
– researching
– scene sketching
– character sketching
– outlining
– world building
– map drawing

Not all the time. Just when the mood struck me.

Well, the mood struck me about a week & a half ago. Of course, I went to Barnes & Noble and I picked up a bunch of writing magazines. I also looked online for writing conferences, workshops or local groups.

So I spent a week reading my magazines, occasionally thinking about about the local conference and not writing one word.

This past weekend, as I sat there trying to figure out why I couldn’t get this novel started, I came to a realization.

I was scared.

When my husband came in the room, he asked me what was wrong. I looked up at him and said, “I want to write my novel, but what if I’m not smart or pretty enough?” (yes, the second-half of the question is illogical & dramatic… I should be allowed the occasional sprinkling of both.)

He gave me his, what I swear should be a prize-winning one eyebrow raised grin, and said “when has that ever been an issue?” I smiled and kissed him.

Vocalizing my fear felt like the permission I needed to make a mental checklist of what was holding me back. Once I got them out of my way, the words started to flow.

Three days and 2,816 words later, my fears haven’t gone away, but I’m not letting them paralyze me. This is a great story and it deserves to be told.

~Anna

I don’t want to shorten the journey. You never know who I might meet along the way!