Recently I had a conversation with a high school student about the movie Alice in Wonderland. We shared a moment discussing the merits of the casting and the plot and how we both highly recommend the film to others. I suggested he might be interested in reading a blog post I wrote after seeing the movie.
Here’s where the conversation got interesting. For me, at least.
He said, “Oh, so you’re a writer?!”
“Ummm. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” I responded with some obvious hesitation.
I froze. How to respond? A writer? Me? Aren’t writers people like Orson Scott Card or Debra Monroe? But me? Not so much. I only write because I have to get these thoughts inside my head outside or all the words and thoughts and ideas tripping and bumping into each other in their frenzy to get to the page keep me awake when I know – I know I should really be asleep.
I decided to reread my own blog post. The very one I recommended to him. In it, I challenged myself to explore my muchness – my personal reservoir of unlimited potential. It occurs to me that I wasn’t following my own advice. In my very hesitation I limited an opportunity to grow myself because of my denial to accept I can be whatever I choose.
While this thought is not an Arminda original – it is one of my life mottos because each of us only has so much time to be and to create the story we want to live.
Yes. I am a writer. And I’m writing my own story because I can.