Writing for me has been been and continues to be the ultimate adventure. It seems as though each new twist and turn in my writing career has been filled with excitement and sometimes dread. The gaining of self confidence and the periods of personal doubt. Periods of true inspiration and periods of mind numbing blankness.

Writing is a combination of long hours hard work and moments pure joy. Most of all it has been a journey into the unknown.

Each and every day, the writer puts themselves on the line. Your feelings, your emotions, your and your thoughts are out there for everyone to see. Writing is sometimes and extraordinary and difficult process that no one seems to really understand except another writer.

The other day I was struck by a comment that one of my co-workers a non writer made. They told me that they wished they could just whip out articles the way I did. To them writing seems easy.

They do not know, and could never imagine the years it took me to reach this point. The sheer decades I spent writing stories, poems, articles that no one would ever read. The amount of time I spent reading articles, and books on writing and on reading countless works by other writers.

Being a writer is no different than being good at sports, or dance, or even being a superb actor. For many of us it takes years to perfect our craft to the point where we feel it is good enough to be seen and judged by others. It takes dedication and practice and perseverance.

Few writers that I know simply whip out an article. At least not a regular basis. They write and rewrite, correct and proof read. They strive continually for that one perfect article. I am still striving for that article and suspect that I will never write an article that is perfect in my own eyes.

Yet, despite my own imperfections I daily set my writing up to judged by others, more so now than ever before.

Having started my ghost writing job a week ago, I have come to realize just how nerve wracking it can be waiting to be judged by others. Each article I submit, I find myself waiting with baited breath until I know the client has accepted it. There are times I expect to receive a message saying “You call yourself a writer? What is this garbage.” These times of self doubt are sometimes close to paralyzing.

Then there are the times of ultimate joy. Just yesterday, I received an email from the site I write for and found myself reluctant to read it, fearing that an article I had written would be rejected. Instead I received a message saying a client had requested that I pick up an assignment for another article he wanted written. It seems he was so pleased with a previous article he wanted me to write for him again.

The thrill I felt the rest of the day was probably all out of proportion for such a minor request but for me it was validation.

I don’t know if I ever get over the moments of self doubt or the thrill of acceptance. Both seem to be a part of my being a writer as much as the act or writing itself is. A part of me believes that if I ever take my writing completely in stride then I will lose that edge that keeps me striving to be better and better at what I do.

Writing for me is definitely a long and winding road. One that hope will take me to many places and will never end.