Para o escritor cheio de hesitações
I can’t tell you how many nights I have sat there, written something, then cried over how I never thought it was good enough. I never felt like an excellent writer and I always felt like I would never be anything. So, this is for all the writers, who write with all they have, and still feel like they do not have a right to say it.
You sit there and every day you write. You write all the gold that is trapped inside your soul, you write until your head is no longer full, and you write until your heart is satisfied. You write, all for what seems like nothing. Because after you write and reread it, you feel like it’s awful. You compare it to famous authors, you think it’s already been said, you think it’s not good enough to be said.
Mas deixa-me dizer-te isto, jovem escritor. E preciso que abras o teu coração, a tua alma e a tua mente ao que te vou dizer. Não são muitas as pessoas que vos vão dizer isto.
O que escreves tem significado. Escreveu-o para se curar a si próprio e alguém, algures, precisa de ouvir o que tem para dizer. Alguém, algures, será curado com as suas palavras. Stop worrying if it’s all been said before, because it has been, but it has never been said by you. Só tu és capaz de escrever a partir da tua perspetiva única, e ela precisa de ser partilhada com o mundo.
You have to write, there is a deep burning inside your soul, a deep ache in your limbs, stretching for a pen to scribble words onto paper. You are a writer, you don’t just want to write, you need to! And most of the time, you don’t want to. You don’t want to revisit that memory, you don’t want to feel that knife entering your back again, you don’t want to sweat from the fear again.
We aren’t happy people. When we write, whether it’s about the joys in life, or the pains and sorrows, we have to feel some sort of discomfort. We don’t just feel the happiness and write, in order to feel that happiness, let alone write about it—temos de sentir dor.
Todos nós já passámos por coisas horríveis nas nossas vidas. E todos temos formas diferentes de lidar com isso. É preciso escrever, é preciso exprimir-se, é preciso gritar dos telhados. Porque talvez, quando gritamos, a nossa voz soe como uma canção para alguém.
Todos nós temos algo para gritar, para cantar, para sussurrar. And if we don’t let it out of our souls, it will rust and intoxicate our blood, to the point of emotional death.
É um escritor perfeito. Nem tudo o que escreveres será perfeito, mas tu és perfeita, porque tentas e te exprimes. Pega no medo preso na ponta dos dedos e usa-o para escrever. Usas o teu medo para escrever, rabiscar ou riscar.
You doubt yourself daily. Wonder if writing is even worth it anymore. Wonder if you’ll ever make yourself into something. Mas prometo-vos que, se nunca tentarem, nunca conseguirão. That itching feeling in your body you get when you grasp a pen, that’s your soul shouting to be released. That shiver down your spine when you see a beautiful notebook is your brain telling you to just let go, and feel. Your body is telling you to try. To do everything you can, to shout, whisper, sing, anything.
Serás sempre um escritor e deves sempre escrever. Porque o que diz é importante to those who have felt your pain. Writing helps you, and you will forever need to continue to write. You may doubt yourself, fear you will never make something of it, and feel your writing is worthless. But I am telling you the truth when I say it is worth it. When I say you’re amazing. And that you are priceless, as is your writing.
“If you can’t beat fear, do it scared.”
by Kaitlynn Schrock
