The Storm it Brews

Self doubt is a bitch.

It is also something that happens.

Sometimes the oily voice of doubt is so seductive.

Look at your numbers, look at your web views… look, little writer. 

Look. 

Relevance is but a unicorn and your self righteousness, it is A-DO-RA-BLE. So you did another blog post? So you did another interview? So you finished another project? That’s nice. That’s very lovely in fact. How many reviews did you say you have? How many stars? How many mentions? Here’s a pat on the back right before we invite reality over. How are those sales doing? 

That’s what sometimes goes on in my mind.

Some people say, oh it’s good that you have done so much with a hobby. That’s nice to have on the side. Cheers for such a good effort put forth. It really is commendable. Sometimes patronization is soaked in every syllable as you’re invited to go back to your day job. Other times people really do wish you well. But still, some others look at you as if saying "Do something worthwhile with your time."

You pause long enough to take a breath in to re-calibrate.

You ponder. You wonder.

And then a spark ignites…

Then you look at the stories in progress.

Then you see what you’ve written and shared with the world.

You say, it is not the numbers that matter… it never is. Numbers distract from what matters. The stories, the words, the message... those are what matters.

Suddenly you hear that voice again, the voice of self doubt… it is tangible. You can grasp it… it is within your hand. Peering down, you see it for the vile and evil thing it is, but it fits inside your hand. It looks up venomously and spits in your eye. You smile. You start closing your hand and you feel that little voice struggling to be heard. You squeeze… you feel the brittle notes of its snakesong start choking. You squeeze tighter.

Low numbers?

Squeeze.

Low web views?

Squeeze harder.

I should do what?

Squeeze until you hear a crack and wipe the dust off your hands.

I see the projects I am working on… a storm brews… and I am its maker.

So I’m still not heard, am I?

Then let me take a deep breath before I share my next storm.

The storm of self… my self… hold the doubt.