I’ve always loved to write. I remember writing books as a young elementary school student, and pursued my interest throughout school. Even when family life and motherhood became the focus of my world, I continued to write letters and journals and found it satisfying and rewarding. However, in the back of my mind, I always believed that I would someday write a great book, and I kept working to mature and grow ripe and profound enough to spring a deep, complex work full of meaning and allegory onto the waiting world. Oh visions of granduer, thy name is Kim!
For several years I’ve dreamed of beginning a blog, and fantasized about the joy and opportunity for expression this would bring. However, there were several self-imposed obstacles standing in my way: perfectionism, being a people-pleaser, and fear of conflict. Has anyone else noticed how MEAN people can be out there in the world? I knew I could never express myself perfectly; I knew I would say things that would differ from others’ outlooks; I knew someone might say something hurtful. So, I let fear hold me back.
Fear of others’ opinions, and fear of failure. Those seem like huge, ugly, and–honestly–ridiculous roadblocks. So, I girded up my loins and decided to brave the fray. Of course, being a perfectionistic over-achiever, I decided that my goal would be to make a Big Popular Successful Lucrative Blog (BPSLB). This BPSLB would bring me fame, acclaim, and wealth. I read books and even purchased an online course to teach me how to monetize my blog, yada yada yada.
And I found writing suddenly turned from joy and anticipation to drudgery and dread.
Two events conspired to change my view. The first was the book Big Magic, by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I plan to reread and review here on a later date. The second event was a serendipitous encounter with a poster at a Choctaw Nation informational center in a newly-opened travel center we just “happened” across during a little road trip. After thinking our family had some Cherokee lineage for many years, I recently discovered that we are instead part Choctaw, so this little mini-museum was of special interest to me. When I saw the poster pictured above declaring the importance of Storytelling in keeping values alive for future generations and expressing a unique point of view, I was drawn in. I read this and re-read it, and I realized: this is who I am. I’m a storyteller. I have stories to tell and I want to tell them because I love them and think it’s important.
So, this is why I write. I’m not writing for fame or acclaim or riches. I’m writing because I’m a storyteller, and telling stories brings me joy.
I’m writing because writing makes me happy. If you want to hear my stories and share along, you are welcome.