"Write?
Why would anyone read what I have to say?
What do I have to say?
Right?"

Wrong.

Write.

Write now.
Write long and hard
Think less about the effects
Talk less, walk more
Think more while you walk
Write more than you might
Talk only once it's written
And in the end
You may have penned
A book.

Look, it's not so much more difficult than that
And yes, there could then follow the drawn out process
Of approaching and preparing
Of reproaches and the potential for disparaging comments
No-one will understand you
Or your highly sensitive self.
It will all feel so much like too much
Until you're suddenly quite sure
Authordom is not for you
And you'll turn to leave
By the door which you hesitated to come in by

Shy and disbelieving
Except in your failings and faults
It's a shame you hadn't realised sooner, you think,
That your future as a checkout assistant
Was much more in-line with your ability
And in actual fact you could be
Much more happy
With a simple life -
Why! You'll be a wife!
And have kids and do dishes
And there'll be no more wishes
For fulfilling dreams and desires
At last, you will sigh with relief,
The future's set out
You can hang up your hat
Without too many hang-ups.

You're smiling inside at the thought
Of the life you'll lead almost entirely
In a cottage by the sea
Apron on, looking out of the window
At chickens and hills and the sky;
You'll be happiest baking a cake
Kids roaming free
Dogs by the fire
Husband a farmer (or maybe an artist?)
You'll start making a plan of your kitchen

When....
Mid-turn from the door
The miracle you wanted will occur
And you'll find yourself
3 months down the line
Feeling fine and confident
Hardback in hand
Almost unable to understand
What you were so worried about
Not a doubt in your mind any more
Sure you're sure!
What could be any clearer?
It's obvious all will be well
Can't you tell?

Then they'll ask you the question you'd love to avoid
'Any plans for another?'
And your stomach will leap through your mouth
Land on their paper-backed table
Leave you unable to breathe
Let alone speak
Weakly you'll smile
Wondering
While eyes search your face for an answer
How to place yourself back at the start
Of this endless adventure
With linguistic art

It will always begin again
Every success is impending return
To an uncertain situ
That will sit you back down
With a full head of nothing
And a full empty page
Of promises wishing to be filled
With the words that you feel
You've been told to say
That won’t go away