“The stories are coming in a vein different from what I’m used,” he spoke.
“You’re allowed and free to change,” she affirmed.
“I worry what others might think.”
“Great thing, almost nobody cares; and the few that do—it’s because they want to know you.”
“What if nobody reads?”
“All the better! You are free without fear to write your most authentic and truest self!”
“And if someone does?”
“Even better than all the better! They are free to read your pat authentic and truest self.
Maybe you should stop worrying and just enjoy the writing as you love. Isn’t that why you do it?
You’re a creator. Without expression of your spirit, you’re not alright. Neither you nor I want that.
Keep writing. Keep sharing, expressing your truest self. No one’s perfect. Life’s easier when we quit pretending.
Be a creator. Make your art. Express your spirit. There’s an audience for everything if you have the audacity to share. And isn’t that part of art too—the humility to offer others opportunity for their own experience and interpretation in share of what is made understanding theirs is not your own and will never be. Art is different to each and everyone—and that’s reason it is special.”
She held perspective that always comforted when he doubted.
“Who cares if it comes in a vein different than what you’re used to?” she asked. “Isn’t it fun to find and create a different way? Art’s supposed to be fun—let it be. Stop thinking away the pleasures and enjoy whatever comes,” her chiding ended.
So he would. Eased of the worry, he open again to the simple pleasure in creating.