Why Becoming A Writer May Have Been One of My Best Decisions
By Manuela Domingos
I read a blog post once by the talented writer, Jeff Goins.
In it, he admits that it took a while for him to own up to the title of a writer. Perhaps due to a lack of self-confidence or merely pure fear, it was a long time before he uttered the words “I am a writer” and truly believed that he was.
For as long as I can remember, I had a strong yearning to create something with my own hands. I read books about characters with blonde hair and blue eyes and imitated the author’s words in my own writing.
Frustrated, I would burn out my fingers with blue ink and throbbing palms only to start over again on a blank sheet of paper. I kept notepads out of habit, elated at the idea of stories that would fill a page.
At a young age, I made the conscious decision that I was going to be a storyteller. I told my family that I wanted to write, and ever since I’ve been known as the “creative” kid.
But then adolescence came along with awkward dinner conversations about considering the professions of law, medicine, and engineering. “Do something practical,” my father would say when he came to visit. Little did he know, I wanted to do many more things than just “write”.
He didn’t have to tell me that it was going to be hard. Every day, I was constantly reminded about my own fears. It wasn’t them anymore. I was becoming my own biggest critic.
So I stopped writing.
Procrastination, unease, and pure laziness played a role. But it was no excuse, because I stopped working on my first love.
Well, I’m back at it again. This time, I’ve discovered stories about people with dark skin and coarse hair. I’ve seen interviews about powerful women like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I’m more open to allowing my creativity to flourish. I don’t want to be just a “writer” I want to create.
With the amount of fuel I have left, I’ll use it.
Keep up with Manuela on Instagram, @_manuelad!