I don’t know if this is a girl thing. But my hair is my best friend and my worst enemy.
I have a lot of hair!
As a kid, I bemoaned the day I forgot to bring a rubber band. In swimming class, my hair floated around me. I was a body of hair with a tiny body attached. And it gave the boys extra ammunition to tease me that day and call me, “Medusa.”
Boy was that hard to shake off!
As an adult, my hair still gets in my way. When I’m working out it falls forward into my face so I can’t see the weights in front of me. When I’m taking a stroll, it blinds me, whips around my face and takes my lipgloss with it.
It’s a nuisance, really.
Yet, I love it. I love its thick wavy texture and its blacker than black hue.
What does this all have to do with writing?
I think we do the same thing to ourselves.
We love ourselves. Sometimes we love our writing. And vice versa. But every now and again, we’ll get in the way of it.
We’ll add superfluous words (like superfluous) and cover it up with too much facts or unnecessary tidbits.
Why?
Because we’re scared. If we leave our writing naked, someone will see, point and laugh.
They’ll realize we’re not the talented writer we are perceived to be.
Our writing is vulnerable, open and left ready to be judged and criticized. And our writing feels like our baby.
So what do we do?
We protect it. We cover it in research and puffed up prose. We hide under there hoping no one will pick at it.
But they will anyway.
And I think you know why.
In the end, it’s our vulnerabilities. Our raw truth sprinkled in with facts, tidbits and colorful words that makes our writing shine.
We just need to trust that its good enough. And that no matter what the critics say, it is ours.
More importantly than that. We must take a risk and let our authentic selves shine through.
We need to stop standing in the way of ourselves. And just let our writing be. Just let it be in all its naked glory.
