I am in the midst of not writing two short stories right now. The characters and their longings whisper in my ears every day, and I turn away from them. Every other thought turns back. Why am I fighting against writing this?
Because these stories are mine, much too much of me. My deepest fears spilled in black on a blank white page. Maybe I'm not ready yet to confront them, no matter how they haunt me and demand that I investigate their depths.
However, I've slowly been writing one story--a fear that grows stronger every day about my future. Something that looms in my mind. Something that I know writing will make clearer and more real, rather than reveal to be an apparition.
How do I face real fears?
