Noise

"There is no such thing as a long piece of work, except one that you dare not start."--Charles Baudelaire

I am a writer.

It feels weird to say it aloud (with any amount of confidence) so I generally whisper it; sometimes I just scrawl it on a scrap of paper before throwing it away. That way, I know the statement exists somewhere, even if that somewhere is at the bottom of my trashcan beneath used napkins, empty yogurt containers, and velvety banana peels.

I am a writer, yet I haven't written anything in months. Maybe even years. I have good intentions to write, I really do. Some days the creative juices are flowing and I can't seem to write or type fast enough. Other days are quite the opposite--I can spend hours staring at a blinking cursor or a blank page. I twirl my pen a few times before it flies from my fingertips. I stroke the keys lightly in anticipation. And then--nothing. I get discouraged and walk away.

I know I can write. I used to do it a lot when I was school, only then I thought my writing wasn't very good. I thought it would get better, that I would feel more like a writer once I received my degree. I thought it would give me credibility as a writer (not that I was going to frame my diploma and hang it around my neck for the world to see). I feel the same, only I write less (much less). No one cares about that piece of paper.

So now I'm trying to write. I've been having a hard time distinguishing between content/ideas and noise. I realize I spend a lot of time listening to noise because it's harmless, entertaining static. It distracts me long enough to prevent me from committing to any one idea.

Maybe I'm just afraid of commitment. That could be it. I am anxious about committing to a project because I might be horrible at it.

What if I am horrible at it? What if I've been deluding myself this entire time, falsely believing I have a smidgen of talent, when I'm really mediocre at best?

And this is where I am now. I locked myself in my room to be immersed in silence. Silence used to be a familiar friend when I was younger, a more passionate, reckless writer, at times brash and volatile but always honest.

I need silence to give me courage.

I need silence to hear God.

I strain my ears to hear the silence that has been eluding me, the silence that will free me from my fear of failure.

But all I hear is noise.