I once talked with a woman who read lots of books. I saw her regularly with her favorite genre of fiction, and one day I told her that she might want to think of writing her own book.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t do that!”

And why not, I wondered. She knew what she liked, she had read at least a thousand books, could tell you how the plot progressed, who the bad guys were, who the good guys were, what hooked her into the book.

Why is it so difficult to write that book? It really isn’t. That is to say, it’s not difficult, it is just TERRIFYING! To tell someone that you’ve written a book is to open yourself up to the congratulations of the person you’re talking with. Followed by, “I want to read it!”
And if that person actually reads what you’ve read, you remain in terror all the while they read. You scrutinize their looks, their demeanor, and what does it mean when they start avoiding you? What does it mean when they tell you, “That’s interesting.”

No, writing isn’t difficult. Opening yourself up to the vulnerability could be called an extreme social experiment. No one wants to do that. It is like revealing your inner self to someone, and what happens when they look into that beautiful mess that we each are?

I admire people who write books and put them out there. There have been books that I have loved, some that I have not loved as much, but I have been grateful to be able to read from multiple points of view. Each one of them enhances my own.

May you be open to your vulnerabilities. They might give you strength.