Death and Doubt

Writing is powerful. No doubt about that. But in 2008 I thought my writing was so powerful, I killed my father-in-law.

Short stories are my medium of choice. They’re snappy, often clever, and pack a punch no matter the genre. They have to – after all, they are short. So, like every other day in 2008, I nestled into my writing chair with my hot tea and helpful cat to tackle another idea from my story cupboard.  Except, this day was different.

The story didn’t come from my cupboard. The drawer in my home office full of animals, heroes, mystery, and adventure that the kids in my life can’t wait to read about, and of which the adults are anxious to read the next short. These are the reasons I write. These are the reasons I have a story cupboard. No, it came from what felt like a vision. I cried as I wrote it and almost felt ashamed when it was done. The story was about death and rebirth. The loss of a barren woman’s husband leaving her alone and bereft of hope for a family, and finding the gift of the proverbial golden egg which he left behind – containing the son she never dreamed she would have.

Honestly, I have no idea where the egg came from, I just wrote what I saw. And cried. And when I was finished, I ripped the story out of my notebook and stashed it in a drawer. It remains there, collecting dust and the weight of my guilt.

Perhaps an hour or so later, my mother-in-law called and told us Jim, her husband, my father-in-law, had died. It was sudden – at least for me – and had happened close to the time I wrote my story. Aside from feeling tremendous loss, I was positive I had written the death of the one person in my husband’s family who had loved me unconditionally.

The writing stopped.

Sure, I tried many times to resurrect my writing time. It was nonsense and uber-superstitious to think that I was responsible for Jim’s death. But there was still a part of me that doubted the reason behind coincidence. I still blamed myself.

So I played video games. And baked. And took pictures. And read a lot. And did all sorts of non-fiction writing to pay the bills. Anything but use my imagination.

It wasn’t until late 2014 I finally had the courage to start writing again and pull out those old stories from hiding. What triggered it? I’m not 100% sure. I think in the end, I was tired of myself. Tired of running away from my own shadows and fears; every morning looking at my face and knowing I was hiding. Tired of procrastinating against facing the inevitable. Never had I backed away from a challenge until the challenge was so precious. Jump off a mountain: done it. Terrified of drowning: Scuba certified. Bring my writing into the light….halt! No way!

But I was finally ready. I was ready to take control of my own destiny and not be dictated by fear, sorrow, and the ghosts I had created. Instead, it was time to put those emotions to use and funnel them into something I could use.

That decision resulted in a book of short stories, two books on the fundamentals of writing, and a book of story starts (not prompts). That has, in turn, opened the door to teaching opportunities, the library circuit, and helping other writers develop and publish their own books.

I’m not an expert, but I’m an overcomer. And I know success is not easy. Especially, if you don’t know what success means for you.

Doubt is still there. It’s the beast that roars in your ears and pounds in your heart and almost always finds ‘something more important’ to do. We have our daily talk every morning as I sit in front of my computer or lift my pencil. But the only way – and the best way – I’ve found to tame the beast, is to remember why I write: to bring just a little more surprise and delight into the world.

I am participating in the Writing Contest: Writers Crushing Doubt. Hosted by Positive Writer. If you want to check out more inspiring stories to crush writer’s doubt, or submit your own success story (we’d love to read it!) visit http://positivewriter.com/writing-contest-2016/. Happy Writing!