My inner critic has me convinced that I’m going to fail. I’ve known since I was 13-years-old that I’d be a writer when I grew up.
I’m grown now. That dream is going to be a reality sooner rather than later. Something I’ve wanted more than anything for the last 31 years of my life is finally within my reach.
So why the doubt? Why the fear? I’ve been so sure of my path for almost all of my life, why’s there this nagging voice in my head? “You’ll fail. No one will like it and you’ll be the worst writer in history.”
I’ll do this, I’ll get where I’ve always dreamt I’d be. No one is going to keep me from my dream.
Not even me.