I have admittedly held back from giving myself over to my best writings. Some themes, like a good shoot-’em-up cop drama or a Stephen King-esque, while I enjoy reading and watching, are not something I want to really wrap my head around. I can’t bring myself to allow myself to get that deep into such a mindset so as to write an acclaimed novel. I don’t want to know the inner thinkings of a serial killer or even a regular thief. I don’t want mystical dark details in my head. Not as a rule of thumb.
Writing for God means everything should be lollipops and gumdrops and puppy dog tails. Right? I don’t want to be typecast as a horror-writer. Or worse, a mediocre writer.
And so I’ve resisted writing some stories that rest in the back of my mind.
Until this week. This week I recognized that I was copping out. Using the fear of the unknown to keep me from writing some really great stories that are festering and boiling forth from the back of my mind.
But now I have no excuse.
I believed in myself enough to form my own company. Why not believe I can do what I formed the company to enable me to do?
And in the deep recesses of my subconscious, fighting for recognition, is that collective sigh that says
So. Hi Ho. Hi Ho… you know the rest.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!