I stare at this blank page and fear overwhelms me. Will I be good enough? Do I have the talent? Do I even have the time to develop a talent? Writing is something I feel a need to do. I want to share with the world a story that inspires, just as I was (and continue to be) inspired by the great stories of others. I want to create a world of retreat from the daily hassles of real life. I want to create a realm of magic and hope. A world of love and adventure. But again, do I have a story inside me? Will this story ever emerge into written form? I have fragments of ideas and characters that call to me. They whisper their thoughts and dreams to me throughout the day - in meetings, on my long drive home through the scenic countryside, and even in my sleep. My life is so busy and fulfilling in so many ways and yet I still a sense that something is missing. That maybe I am not pursuing all that I could be in this life.

I begin to write and the fear always comes. I read the work of others and can't help but to compare our words. My words seem flat and dull compared the witty and enchanting stories of others. I feel embarrassed and don't want to share with my husband that I want to be alone to write. I'm too afraid he will want to read my words and wonder why I waste my time. Although really, my husband is wonderful and would never criticize something that is of such importance to me.

As I put these fears to paper, I also begin to put them behind me. That is the great healing power of the written word. Putting my thoughts onto paper is a liberating experience. Reading my own fears in black and white brings the realization that writing is something I can do for myself. As I write each day, I will improve. And from there, I will wait and see what the future brings.