A blank page.

No words.

Just a glaring sea of too many possibilities, twists, and turns.

After months of interlocking imaginings, copious notes and numerous crushing restarts, I can finally call myself a writer, and I’m stunned.

This has been an enjoyable, frustrating and at times difficult journey. I’ve always loved writing but let self-doubt and a tidal wave of imposter syndrome emotion wash over me. Instead of putting my musings out there, I wrote just for myself. Short stories, poetry and attempts at scripts kept me tethered to a world of writing with no consequence. It was safe, My happy place. It took a family tragedy to focus my mind and push me firmly in the direction l longed to travel.

It’s been a nerve-wracking and, at times, hugely difficult endeavour, but I feel I have learned so much about how I see myself and how personal visions can stall a person’s potential and growth.

A page no longer terrifies me. It’s an invitation to wander around my mind and relay the findings to paper, well, screen, but you know what I’m getting at. Instead of procrastination and sheer terror, I now approach the screen positively and with a spring in my fingers and laughter in my heart.  I can’t believe I let apprehension win for so long. Never again. Onward and upward with joy!

A Name In History is now out there running wild and free of my tethers.

Oh, I feel terror again.

Written by Hillery Baptiste.