I Want to Delete ALL of my Old Stuff

But I kept it

I re-read some of my Medium posts from 2015. They are so embarrassing. I cringed at them and wanted to hit delete. Then I decided that it showed a record of some of my progress. But astonishingly to me, I’ve been saying the same thing for FIVE YEARS. And it stops now.

I was afraid then, as I was recently, of publishing. Of completing anything. Of putting myself out there. I wanted to be a writer, but couldn’t write.

I could write in that I know how, but I was too afraid to publish and fail. But more afraid of publishing and succeeding. I wrote about this recently again and after looking back on my old work, I’ve really had enough of myself.

I am on the downhill run of life. I know that if I don’t finish and put these stories out, I will regret it on my deathbed.

So no more self assessment, introspection and excuses. I’m spending the next month putting my first work of fiction together and finishing the damn thing and then hitting publish.

About five moves ago I threw out five arch binders of handwritten work. I looked through them all and cursed myself for being such an idiot to think that I could do this.

I’m still doing that and I don’t know why.

In my head I believe I can. I have the tools in front of me to do it. In my heart I want to as well.

Whatever was stopping me before, and all those years ago, has been kicked out of the building in my head never to return.

Time is finite. You don’t know when it’s up but I know mine is likely sooner than yours. So this is the last article I will write on this topic. The rest will be about whatever else, but fear and inability to take action are out of my article rotation for good.