Why is it so hard to write?

I've always admired writers. So much so that I have taken the challenge and decided to be one. And now, as I struggle with phrases and sentences and the truth, my respect for writers has increased so much that I wonder if I am ever going to finally call myself a writer - and believe it.

Why is it such a struggle?

I think because the truth is a struggle to write about. The truth wasn't built for words. Words come from the mind, but the truth comes from the heart. To be able to marry both and to get something beautiful and unpretentious is a victory in itself. Every well chosen word, a well-won victory.

Most of the writers - or those I know who love to write - suffer from almost the same thing: self-criticism. We've read some really good stuff, and we can't help but compare ourselves - is what I wrote good enough? Is it interesting enough? Am I good enough? It's easier not to write because it's easier to hide. It's easier when I cannot see myself on paper. Because if I do, people will judge me - I will judge myself - and I might get hurt.

But not writing will hurt too, because people want to read about what other people are going through. We want to know - I want to know - that I am not alone in being human. I want to be inspired by those brave enough to put themselves out in the open - vulnerable to the judgement of the world.

So writing is about love. It's about knowing the risks of getting hurt, and taking the risk anyway - because not being able to do this - to love - is in itself, a tragedy. It is about sharing a part of you to the world, whether the world wants it or not. All a writer knows is that life is a little richer with her words, with her heart, with her truth.