Ever since I opened Scribblory (my writing business), I keep getting this nagging thought of you-don’t-have-the-right-to-do-this or you-are-not-good-enough. You see, there is this glaring fact that I have no formal training in writing nor huge accomplishments in the craft save, of course, my dear memoir, Finding You, which has found a seat once in the “Best-Selling Books” shelf, and gratefully, a chair in the finalists for Jaime Cardinal Sin Catholic Books Awards under Youth Category.
Each day, I look at the distance that stretches from me to the horizon that holds Scribblory’s potential. And I know that no amount of steps forward will decrease that distance’s length. No one has ever touched the horizon. That is exciting, isn’t it? There’s the whole world for me to walk as a writer and teacher. There is always, always a space for growth.
But my flesh gets weak, sometimes. My eyes falter before a page in a book and the loads of paperworks. What I do is I take a couple of hours away from all of it, expecting myself to come back to it with a better mind, better heart, and better eyes. And so I come back as I should, but not always with better eyes.
So yeah. The nagging thought persists on its nagging every day, and I can only refute it by reminding myself why I opened Scribblory in the first place. Then I remember that it is because people came to me. They believed in me (and still do), and it is mostly I who don’t.
I also remember that my goal has been oh-so-simple – to share what I know. I don’t have to be the best there is in this field, in this business. I could only give my best for my clients. Man, God knows I only want to have a writing shop that loves.