Life's Core

For years, while I was trying to publish that first elusive book, I wanted desperately to be an author. I wanted to be able to tell someone when they asked me what I did, “I’m a writer.” I wanted to spend my days writing, not squeezing my writing in between chores and my day job. And, just as importantly, I wanted to be able to run errands as a writer, go out and about buying groceries or taking my car to the mechanic, whether the people I met and talked to ever asked me what I did. I would know, and that would be enough.

Of course, my ego, which was not happy at all with the fact that I had to tell people I was a waiter when they asked me what I did for a living, eyed the life of an author with ravenous desire. How impressive that would be! That career, that life, would be like a beautiful hat I could strut about in, and everyone would be able to see it, and everyone would think well of me, and I would have nothing to be ashamed of ever again.

It was confusing. My desire to write, and to share what I had written, was genuine. By which I mean, writing alone was reason enough for me to write, and sharing what I wrote seemed as natural as telling a friend about a song I just heard on the radio. Also, when I wrote, I allowed myself to focus on what I felt actually mattered most in life. So much of my time seemed to be spent circling around the meaningless exterior of life. But to tell a story, I had to get to life’s core, to ask why I loved or felt alone, why I suffered and why was I relieved. What else really mattered? Nothing, it seemed to me.

Which is the real reason I wanted to be an author. I wanted to live at life’s core, the only place I ever felt at peace. I didn’t want to spend my days fretting about life’s pins and paperclips, its due dates and bottom lines. I wanted to live where the flow of life occurred. That too was a genuine desire, but not one that could only be fulfilled by publishing a book. I could have started living that way anytime I wanted.

When I think of this, I’m reminded of why I should always be kind to myself. I don’t how to be rid of my ego, I only know how to ignore it. It misunderstands everything, even something genuine and lovely. It’ll turn it into something false and ugly. It’s okay. It’s not its job to understand how life is actually lived. That is my job, the one who likes to write for writing’s sake, who shares what he loves with the people he loves, who was born the author of his own life.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com