It never ceases to amaze me how many times I give in to fear. I love to write and tell stories. When I was young I didn’t really care if anyone liked them or not. My imagination would just run and I’d tell anyone who would listen – or at least pretended to listen.

In high school I had to write a short story; although it became something of a prologue to an epic book that was never written. My teacher didn’t really get it, but I got an A for my writing abilities. He said he knew he wasn’t my intended audience and kindly overlooked it. In hindsight, as he was the one grading it, he probably should have been the intended audience.

But something happened between high school and my brief stint in college, I began to fear my ability to write wasn’t good enough. I didn’t fail my writing class or anything. In fact I made an A-/B+ on all my papers except one (it’s best not to mention what happened with that one). My professor refused to give A’s believing no paper was perfect. Yet my driving fear from the second I entered my freshman year was a thesis that wouldn’t need to be written until my senior year!

After my short-lived months as a college student I spent years floundering from one job to the next – and one state to the next – with no real direction. I started writing fanfictions and developed a semi-decent following online. It filled the ‘flesh’ aspect of being accepted as a writer in a genre I enjoyed, but a turning point in my life put an end to it. I accepted Christ.

All those stories I’d taken such pride in now left a foul taste in my mouth. I shut my site down and removed all my stories, begging God’s forgiveness for spreading such filth.

It wasn’t long after that when I began writing Something Called Redemption. That was in the summer of 2004. While I found some satisfaction from putting words to paper that I didn’t have to be ashamed of, I was terrified to take the book any further. I allowed everything that came along to distract me from a passion God gave me… because of fear.

What if people read my new story and hated it?

What if it made no sense?

What if no one read it?

What if I tried and fell flat on my face?

And the new one to me:

What if it was a success?

Am I prepared and knowledgeable enough to do everything needed to be a successful author?

So now I had two fears going: failure and success. If that won’t back a girl into a corner, I don’t know what will. And what’s the solution? For me it was putting forth a half-hearted attempt. Try a little but not hard enough to accomplish anything substantial. That way neither true failure nor success could be an option.

Stupid.

So I’ve reached the point of hating mediocrity and have made my decision. God gave me a passion for writing, so I’m going for it. I’m learning what it means to wait on the Lord. It isn’t sitting on your hind-end waiting to see what happens. It’s doing all we can for His glory and looking expectantly for how He is going to move.

Enough with worrying about failure or success. Enough with mediocrity. I’m aiming for the finish and striving to reach the goal!

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