I told Wayson that I had written here about the fear and pain every writer, except him, confronts.
He replied, “I trust your fans/readers/students will understand that you are being ironic if not distruthful about my insecurities and ten thousand doubts: oh, let me count the ways.
“Tell them that I always say to my writing students, ‘When facing a blank screen or blank page, believe me, every writer is equal. Every writer must confront their share of fears, doubts, and hopes.’ Of course, it’s true that when I confront YOUR fears and doubts, AND ESPECIALLY YOUR HOPES, I’m absolutely courageous and bold and daring. Onwards!”
This is what he wrote to me once in an email: “Keep writing. Do what you love. Risk more, tell more, explore more, and let your fingertips tap away. You are worth reading. The ideal reader is waiting for you.”
How lucky is the writer who has a one-man band, a Theo van Gogh of love and support behind her. Every time I stop in confusion, Wayson’s cymbals, drums and trumpets sound in my ear. And I hope that when my students find themselves frightened and stuck, they can hear my cymbals banging joyously behind them.
Onwards! the man says.
