The idea in your head. The precious one. “It’s big. World-changing. It means something.”
“At least it’s going to be life-changing for me.”
Yes, that’s the one.
But it’s so precious so you have to be cautious. Put it in a beautiful box and lock it in your drawer.
Don’t disturb it. Don’t expose it to the air, or the sunlight, otherwise it’s going to deteriorate.
But, wait. Is it the idea that we are protecting? Or our ego?
Since I was a kid, I loved writing. My essays were often praised by teachers. But I never sent anything to the local newspaper or any children’s magazine to get it published.
Because I was afraid of rejections. Because I was so used to be praised, be “the best” in a place where I was already the best. Because I knew in my heart, that there’s a chance I wouldn’t be “the best” to get picked.
And it’s the same today.
The internet saved my artistic life. I can write here, in a blog with almost no traffic, at a small corner of the sea of words and characters. I feel safe here. Safe to write, to express. But after a while, I’m tired of singing to the vast of emptiness, and nothing comes back.
I have to choose, between showing real people “I have something to say that’s worth hearing & I can write”, and protecting my ego from ridicule, rejection, and indifference.
And silently blogging might just be another way of protecting the precious idea, protecting my ego.
So where do I turn up the microphone?