At my core, I am a writer. It is what I strive to be, it is what I desire; it is what makes me happy. As time passes and I come up with projects and put them aside, start short stories and never finish them, apply for freelance jobs and never get them, I realize my energy is misappropriated. Aside from having a few publications and short lived reporter jobs, I have not really pursued my dreams I have settled for what pays the bills. When I begin the journey of publication, manuscripts and submissions, I am overwhelmed. I feel I am not worthy.
For 2 years at the Emerald City Comicon, I have sat in the panel titled “Wil Wheaton’s Awesome Hour.” From Star Trek, to ingenious writing he has captivated me. Here is a man who has reinvented himself, a family man, a man who cares for his fans. While 3,000 of us squeezed into a room just to hear him read us excerpts, answer questions, and regale us with witty remarks, I laughed and beamed and realize I have no leg to stand on.
I am no Wil Wheaton, and here is no great matter. This is my call to action. I may not be Wil Wheaton but I am Leila Regan and while a part of me feels all that can be done has, a part of me knows that I am a different type of writer from everyone else. Wil Wheaton, you have inspired me to get back on the horse. To submit until I bring writing into submission. I want to write. I want to be published. I want my words to grace the pages of a book. A solid book people can hold in their hands. It will be time consuming and hard and become a unpaid second job, but I have to give it an honest effort, I have to write and be read.
The pen is mightier than the sword and I will use my pen to stab at pages and eke out stories and fall in love again. While Wil Wheaton has shown me his strength it has renewed my strength in myself. I am no Wil Wheaton but he forged himself and I must do the same.
