I’ve probably mentioned this before. It haunts me daily.

My fear.

My biggest fear is failure. I don’t mean that I’ll never have a book published or be known to the public. I mean my writing, my stories will never be as I imagine them. They won’t work quite right. I fear I don’t have the chops to do that which I intend to do.

Yet, I write anyway. I put words to page. I tell stories. Sometimes I finish, and I think, yes. That’s it. Sometimes, I purse my lips, clench my jaw. That’s not what I had in my head, I think. It fails.

Image by pixmixer via Flickr

I have one such story. A year ago, I penned the first bit. This is what I want to do with it. It’s different than what I’ve done before. But I’m not sure it’s working. It’s not a complicated idea. But the practice of it eludes me. I should let this story go. It’s but a short story. What can it matter?

Picasso said, "I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it."

Miles Davis tried out his musical ideas before he had the ability to play them.

So I will return to this story.