Why Writing is Hard

I discovered my talent in the 5th grade. My curly-haired, flat-faced teacher Ms. Kolton read a paragraph I wrote about an angry boy to the class. The boy marched up the stairs to his front door, threw his backpack down, clenched his fists, and then the phone rang. He glared at it and thought about throwing it out the window. Now, this is a silly scene that anyone could describe. But my teacher thought I was something special. She signed me up for Talent Academy, a program I attended every Friday instead of going to school.

Since then, people have been placed in my life to look me in the eye and say "Don't ever stop writing. Ever." 

I've found myself in many settings that allowed me to display my talent regularly. It's one of the only things I have confidence in; yet, for some reason I struggle to publish anything, especially on a blog. It was easier for me to spray my emotions all over the Internet as an unmarried college student without a career because nothing was at stake.

Now, if I want to write anything meaningful, it's going to be drawn from my own experience. When I have an idea and want to put fingers to keyboard, my first thought is ... who cares? Why would anyone want to read this? OK, so I post something and don't push it on social media. Well, I might as well write it in a Word document or in my journal, because it isn't impacting anyone. Where is middle ground? How do I write what I really want to write without making myself completely vulnerable? How do I write without saying too much?

It isn't possible for me. Either I write like I mean it, or I don't write at all. 

Oh, and let me not forget to mention that I'm terrified of being one of those people. You know, the ones that I "hide" on Facebook and the ones that write for nothing more than attention. I don't want every post to appear as though I'm shouting, "Look at me! Over here!" 

In a highly hormonal state, I sobbed to Dalton, "What is the point of this? Why do I write? Why can't I be good at something else? Anything else."

He lowered his eyebrows and squinted at me saying, "Catherine, this isn't you talking. This can't be you."

It was, though. 

Nevertheless, beginning today I am challenging myself. Because I do not want to squander one of the only talents I have, I will write every day for 100 days. Every. day. Whether it's one sentence or 1,000 and whether I'm enraged or ecstatic, depressed or delusional.

Note: I am seeking any and all writing prompts. Send them to me on Facebook or send them to catherinebennett57@gmail.com.