I want to be a writer, but sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t even bother to write at all since everyone else is better than I am.
I think you should keep writing. Especially when you feel like you aren’t any good.
I have written my worst stuff on my best days and my best stuff on my worst days. And it’s been the greatest thrill of my life.
I’m just like you. I don’t have anything brilliant to write. So I write about simple things.
For instance, I have written a lot about my late dog, Ellie Mae. Once, she ate an entire jar of coffee grounds. I discovered that coffee stimulates the lower intestines of an animal.
Don’t ask me how I learned this.
I also wrote about the time I got stranded on an island for four hours. No kidding. My boat motor died, the current pushed me into the grass flats of the Choctawhatchee Bay. I
had to wait until I got rescued by a man with beer.
I wrote about the time I dressed up like Elvis for a talent show. And about the time I did a ventriloquist act with the puppet of a squirrel. The puppet’s name was Ernie.
The next morning I wrote about it.
There was my college professor. When my first book got published, I gave her a stack of books and told her she was the reason. I wrote about that.
And about the woman who shares my life. My wife. Once, I sat in a waiting room at UAB, asking Heaven to make her better again. And when Heaven answered, I had to write about it.
Only ten minutes after I received news that my thirteen-year-old coffee-eating bloodhound had died, I wrote about it. My face was swollen, my eyes…