Why do I hide?

I've been an imaginer since I was little.  As long as I can remember, I've written stories in my head.  As I grew older, I began putting those stories on paper. And I showed them to my parents with the excitement only a little child can have.

I remember one story in particular, it was about a fox named Danny.  I named him after my Dad, and offered up my first fruits (complete with pencil drawings!) to my Daddy with glee.

 

But as I grew older, I grew into my self.  I will say, my 13th year was a hard one.  I was rebellious, and didn't always want to confide to my parents.  I thought the whole world hated me, and I turned in and created my own world. One where I was in control.

 

I didn't want to share this world with anyone.  I was afraid if I opened up my personal Narnia's door, that the woes of this world would somehow leak in.  I didn't want any one touching the friends I created, I didn't want anyone to say something was wrong or illogical.  I had everything just how I wanted it.

 

Thus saying, my writing was just a doorway to the world I so cherished.  I refused to let anyone read them.  If I did, they might find my Narnia's doorway and come in.

 

As time has learned me, I'm not so silly anymore.  I will say, my imagination is a magical doorway for me still.  When I'm upset I curl up, and forget what dimension I truly am in.  I am a bit more open about my writing, but I still hide it.

I think the reason is, I'm afraid of anyone telling me that I write crap.  I'm afraid someone will laugh at parts I want them to cry at.  I'm afraid my Mom won't approve of what I write.  I'm afraid of being told to "give it up".

I'm afraid.

 

So, this year, I started something new.  I stepped out of my comfort zone.  I stopped hiding.  There is a real life, I'm not in Imaginaria, I have to face up, step up.  I hold a pen. I can't hide the light in a bushel.  I have to fly out with my Faerie wings, and touch the sun.  Yes, I might get burned.  But, coming back to earth with a droplet of Sun is worth it, isn't it?

 

What is in my imagination isn't just mine.  Narnia has a right to be known.  I created it, now, I need to share it.  A bird never does any good, if it stays in the nest with it's head in its feather.  I need to fly, and try out my voice.  A new singer might not always sound like a seasoned one. In fact, it's rare for anyone to sound beautiful when they start out.

 

I'm a writer. I will someday publish my work.  

Right now, I've let some close friends read a NIW. (Novel in Works) to critique me.  Girls, you just don't understand the mental terminal I go through each time I click 'Send' with a new installment.

I almost feel like I'm giving my heart to them, for them to poke, prod, and judge.  But I know it is good for me. I know I NEED to do this.  No matter how painful.  I need to crack the shell I've made for myself.

 

Now, I'm not saying I'm letting people into Imaginaria free of charge.  I have a few people on my list that just aren't allowed in, yet.  I've even learned that when I write, I don't need to throw open the door to my personal Narnia...just season the words with Imaginaria's magical charm.

I firmly believe, a person's imagination is his most sacred spot.  Never try to pry in there un asked.

You might encounter a Dragon to counter Attack you.