Write a letter to your inner writer, expressing your fears, doubts, and insecurities. Be honest and vulnerable in your words, acknowledging the struggles you face as a writer. Then, shift the tone of the letter to one of encouragement and empowerment. Remind yourself of your passion for storytelling, your unique voice, and the stories that only you can tell. Write affirmations that bolster your confidence and reaffirm your identity as a writer. Embrace the process of self-reflection and self-compassion as you connect with your inner writer and release self-doubt through the power of your words.

Juliet Diaz

My Dear,

I know you are afraid of telling your story when other people’s stories intertwine with them. You sometimes use intention as an excuse to cut yourself short. You overthink and block every blessed word that has not passed through a filter of perceived perfection.

I get it. 

You don’t want to be misunderstood. You want to be liked because you equate it with being safe. But truth be told, this desire is a noose around the neck of your creativity.

How much you value the opinions of others is stifling. It’s your ankle in a bear trap and I want us to be free.

But the slippery thing you fear, the thing that bounces in and out of view,  is being wrong.  You don’t want to make a mistake or  have someone take something you wrote to heart and it harms them in some way.

You are afraid to take full responsibility for your words because you know how powerful words are.

Yes my dear.

A pen is very much like a sword that can cut both ways but you have trained.

Your blade is keen, honed and whetted.

Your pen can cut through horrific things and leave beauty in its wake.  It’s okay if it is imperfect, disliked, wrong and messy. It’s okay if you are imperfect, disliked, wrong and messy.

Don’t you remember the ways in which writing transformed us; left the insides of us clenching and wet from the friction of new ideas edging our consciousness.

Remember when touching the page was like touching yourself? Even when it wasn’t easy it was still ecstasy.

Your  pen was one of the first lovers you’ve ever known

the one you miss the most

but it is not the one that got away.

It’s still here within you.
A snake coiled and ready to spring forth.  Strong enough to shake the tree of all of its apples.

A holy offering to yourself, the world, and your godX

Each piece of fruit sent forth to be absolutely devoured by someone hungry for it.

Let Them Eat Love. Let Them Eat.