I had another one - what I call a "story dream." I sometimes get these dreams that stretch out into this perfect story, almost like I'm watching a movie. Then, they dominate my thoughts until I write them down. Most of the time I just write in my journal the general outline, which helps. At least I am able to dwell on something else. It has been a source of a lot of wondering though.
I used to think I was a good writer. Back in junior high and high school, I would feel words pour onto a page, whether I was writing an essay, a story, or a poem. It was enough to get me good grades on most of the writing I did. But, then harsh life interrupted and my confidence in my ability to write was squelched. I now write carefully, scrutinizing every sentence, feeling like I can never quite get what I want to say across. I have wondered if writing was really a gift I've been given or if it was just fanciful thinking.
Then, the dreams begin. I wonder whether it's just my imagination finding an outlet, or whether this is some sort of "nudge" from a higher power telling me to start writing again. At once, I'm ashamed. What makes me think I could actually write something that could even compare to the writers I admire and whose words I hungrily devour on a regular basis? There's no way my story could be that good, and I'm sure nobody would read it. But... then enters the doubt. Is it real lack of talent that is causing me to dismiss these opportunities as flights of fancy, or is it lingering humiliation from that experience? And thus it goes, in endless circles, until I am utterly exhausted. I have often come to the conclusion that the only way I'll know for sure is to really start writing and see where it leads. Of course, my emotions seem to shrink from the idea; what if I fail?
