As time went on and I became more secure with my as-yet-unrealized dream, I slowly opened my hands to let it flit and fly, to land on whomever it would. I found it was much more fun to share a dream with others than to keep it all to myself. The truth of the matter is that it had taken me so long to acknowledge my dormant dream, to let it rise from the depths, and to take those first steps toward fulfilling it, that I was afraid of anyone who had the same as-yet-unrealized dream. I was sure they had better stories to tell and more time with which to tell them. I was sure they would beat me to the finish line. I was afraid. These days, when I hear of new writer-wanna-be's, instead of feeling threatened, I'm happy - for them and for me. The road ahead of them is exciting, filled with much to learn and experience; and I get to have a new companion with whom to walk that road.
As I read and as I listen to people all around me on Facebook, Instagram, on blogs, etc. etc. etc., I'm amazed. There are so many stories! People who have no desire at all to be a "writer" have stories. People want to express themselves. Everyone carries within them, a desire to be known, a desire to connect with others through words. Whether you're a writer, a talker, or a thinker, there dwells within you stories - from your past, your present, your future, your imagination, your fascination, your passion, your dreams, your heart, your pain, your joy, your defeats, and your triumphs.
These stories are gifts. Gifts to you, but they can also be gifts from you.