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Is it fear of failure or fear of success that makes us hesitate? Or, perhaps, it is the fear of what’s around the corner. Failure would be a relief; it is a finite result. The same can be said of success but the road that leads to that fork is a dark one full of distractions, potholes, and an occassional traffic jam.

In my pursuit of a novel, I’ve found myself dreading that fork. I held back from writing because I didn’t know what was around the corner. I didn’t know what a character would do or how the arc would be taken by readers. I didn’t want to hit another block further down the road that I’d have to scrape my knees to scale. I was tired of the callouses, the aches, the pains, and the stress but I wasn’t tired of the dream.

To say I’ve been dedicated to Forebode would be a lie. I am thoroughly cheating on it but I have found comfort in these words: Writing in any form is practice of the craft.

I may not be adding to the word count every day but I am writing. I am thinking, plotting, and trying to shape my style as a writer. So, no, I haven’t done what I set out to do. I took one of the detours and you know what? It’s leading me down a surprisingly motivating route. That weight around my fingers is gone. What more could I hope for? Okay, a completed novel but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Now, I breathe.

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