What if I suck
Fear of judgement
Fear of embarrassment (being cringe)
what if people make fun of me
Backstory:
I started writing stories when I was 7.1
As an only child, I was on my own more than most kids. Left to my imaginary worlds and games. My dad said I should write them all down, and that’s what I did. From then on, I knew who I would be. I wanted to write stories, create worlds and characters. To live a magical existence through the page etc. (You know how it goes)
Growing up wanting to be a writer, the word “author” now feels deeply familiar and personal. Like it’s embedded in my genetic makeup. I meet authors now and something rings inside me with recognition and longing.
I’ve clutched onto writing for most of my life. But at some point during my modelling career, I put being an author on the shelf and left it to dust. One day Future Lily
(who would know and be more than I am now) would pick it back up. She would somehow make it happen.
The thing is, future Lily doesn’t exist. There’s only ever the relentless present.
I think posting my writing makes this special thing I’ve always thought about real. It’s an intimidating prospect. But I want to share my stories. I want to be brave. I want to share this thing that is so integral to my being, but only my nearest and dearest know about.
At the end of the day, I want to be more me.
And now the worries…
What if I turn out to not be good at this special (private) thing I’ve had since I was a kid?2
These things I’ve held close to my chest, all these stories and big ideas, what if they’re nothing? I didn’t go to university, what if there’s something I’m missing? Something I can’t see in my writing that is glaringly obvious to those with a higher education...
What if, unbeknownst to me, I’m doing something wrong? The mortification of being the only one unaware of my own embarrassment.
My fear of judgement first bloomed at age 10-11, when I finally realized that I’m someone who can be judged. One morning before school (while putting my hair in my standard tight low ponytail) I looked at my reflection and finally saw myself in the mirror. I realized the following:
I exist
I’m real
My name (I have a name and that name is me) is Lily
People can see me.
(Me?) (LilyLilyLilyLily) (me)
Before that, I was free from the shackles of myself. I was just me, sometimes ridiculously so. Now I’ve made an unfortunate habit of losing my voice, overthinking and rumination. I’ve grown a lot, but I’ll never be that free little girl again
(and I’ve been chasing her ever since).
What if people make fun of me? Worse still, what if no one ever sees this? What if I’m begging the heartless void of the internet to cast its attention on me, and no one cares to listen?
All these what if’s……
God it’s exhausting.
I just want to be.
Writing is meant to be read. I’m going to share it.
(I am I am I am)
<3 :)
My first ever story was about the spider-monkey from spykids, neopets and giant worms getting drunk. The rest of my growing up was filled with stories of dragons and magic.
Now I tend to predominantly write about women, bodies and friendship.
It goes without saying, but I wish I didn’t care so much about being good. I’m working on it….Do you guys feel like this too?
The fear of judgement and of not being good, so understandable😭 I’m really very excited to read your writing! I love both stories of magic and dragons (my roots growing up) and of women, bodies, and friendships
I feel the very same way so you’re not alone 🤍 thank you for sharing