A Writer Who Does Not Write

I am a writer who does not write. Why?  Oh, I have many excuses.  I always say I will get around to it someday.  I guess, the truth is, I doubt my own ability.  One thing for sure, I read a lot.  For the last three years, I have voraciously read hundreds of books.  However, reading and writing are two different things.  It is like eating and cooking, some people prepare the meals and others just enjoy it.  Nevertheless, the problem is, I want to be a writer.  I even tell myself that I should be a writer.  Perhaps it is just discipline.  Maybe what is needed is just taking the plunge and letting the words just pour out…  I am sure I am not alone with these feelings.  In this day and age anyone can be a writer.  But, I don’t want to be just a writer, I want to be a good writer, there’s the rub as they say.  This desire to be a good writer paralyzes me and keeps me from being a writer.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say.  So tonight, I decided to just sit down and write.

Okay, I have posted a few things before this.  They have been my attempts at writing.  I have written book reviews of a handful of books that I have read.  Why those books?  No idea, those just happened to be the books I read when I got up the nerve to write.

One thing all those books I read did for me was give me a lot more questions.  The more I read the less I realized I knew.  Perhaps some of that is what I want to share.  Reading has helped me understand others and myself.  I am often astonished and dismayed to hear from someone who absolutely abhors reading.  They seem to be proud of their ignorance.  How does this come to be?  I really have no idea.  I will end this rant for now and before I change my mind, I will post it on my blog.