Kern Carter's Blog, page 181

A Lesson From My Daughter — You’ll Get There, Daddy

She’s much more intelligent than me…

I’m obsessed with watching award shows. I can’t help it. The Grammy’s, Oscars, American Music Awards, JUNO Awards; I’m hooked. And I don’t just watch them, I make a big deal of these shows. I’m talking watching the red carpet, tweeting; yeah, it’s an event.

That means alcohol, usually mango or some other kind of chopped-up fruit for a snack, and me inviting people over and forcing them to endulge with me. Ridiculous, I know, but like I said, I can’t help myself.

The last occasion was the Giller Prize. The main culprit — my 15-year-old daughter. We’re sitting on the couch. She’s half interested but attentive enough to notice when my mood starts changing. I’m quiet, not commenting on any of the finalists as they read short passages from their novels.

So she asks me what’s the matter. I go into baby mode and tell her “nothing.” My daughter is resilient, though (or annoying), and finally squeezes an explanation out of me.

The funny thing is, as much as I love award shows, wathing them gives me this, “what am I doing with my life,” kinda feeling. I feel like I’m in direct competition with all of them, no matter the genre of award show, and I’m losing. Most of the time I can smile through it, but when the Giller Prize comes on, there’s no faking.

I want to be there. I want to be on the stage with those authors who are being celebrated as the best in our country. It drives me crazy that I’m on my couch instead of in the venue. It’s to the point now where I actually get anxiety.

I tell my daughter a version of this story and instead of laughing at me, she actually takes it seriously. She says, “daddy, imagine you’re in a race with Usain Bolt. You’re probably going to lose the race, but you’ll still get to the finish line. You’ll both end up at the same place.”

No sarcasm, no placating, just some real life advice from a teenager to her over ambitious father. And I heard her loud and clear. Because really, even though I force myself to believe otherwise, I’m not in any kind of race. My circumstances are unique to my life and my time shouldn't be negotiated by those who I have declared as “winners.” It’s actually kind of…childish.

So from here on out, I’m going to try my best not to compare. I’m going to chill out a little bit and remind myself that I’m in my own lane. Time shouldn’t force my decisions or guide my emotions. I’ll cross the finish line soon enough.

C.R.Y

A Lesson From My Daughter — You’ll Get There, Daddy was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Art Is Manufactured — Get Over It

You’ll be a better artist…

Taylor Swift

I’m fighting with myself. I’m watching my contracts get larger, my opportunities get bigger, my future get brighter, and I’m fighting it. I’m here trying to figure out what’s the formula. What can I do to ensure, or at least give myself the best chance, for continuing this success.

So I comb through all my articles, read through emails, make note of the reader engagement and which pieces get the best reaction. Now I’m researching, comparing, breaking down point for point what’s worked before and how I can apply that to future success.

Exhausting; yes. But is it necessary? Is this constant analysis one of the factors that sets the greats apart from the ones who get halted or struggle to get over the edge?

Now I’m wondering what’s real. Like what does it really mean to be authentic? My last post, for instance, I spoke from my heart. It wasn’t planned out, per say. I said precisely what I felt and it connected. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that there was strategy behind it.

For one, the title. It got scrapped like six times before settling on the one I published. But I knew the title I did go with would attract the most attention. I knew that because I could feel the temperature of the world and pair it against the tone of my readers. Do I lose points for that? Is that not being true to my art? Or really, is it just being clever? Is it wrong to be deliberate to achieve a certain goal? Because I’m getting better at playing the game, understanding the tone of the world and what topic would likely make a ripple, does that somehow put me in the same box as a pop star or blockbuster Hollywood movie?

Let’s Separate Creating from Selling

I think the only way to make sense of all this is to place creating and selling in two different piles. I once heard Jay-Z say that when he’s in the studio, he’s an artist, but as soon as he steps out of the booth, he’s a marketer. When I think of building my career as a writer, I’m starting to understand more and more why that frame of mind makes a lot of sense.

There’s a bit of manufacturing behind the success of any artistic creation.

I’m going to leave that last sentence to sit on its own so you writers can really let that sink in. And I’ll say it again: There’s a bit of manufacturing behind the success of any artistic creation. And that includes writing.

The guilt I’m feeling, the guilt all of us creatives feel for “selling” our work is perfectly normal. Yes, I still fight with myself everyday. I have the same thoughts many of us writers and creatives share about keeping it real. But what I always come back to is that I want to make a living. I work hard to put these words together, endless editing to get my thoughts exactly right, what’s wrong with using some learned strategies to draw attention to that work?

That’s one perspective. The other thing that becomes questionable is what happens when you do find that secret sauce? Is it still artistic to essentially recreate the same thing over and over again? Or more precisely, is it OK to recreate iterations of the same thing over and over again and still think of yourself as creative?

Is part of being creative pushing yourself beyond these manufactured strategies? Or is there still creativity in consistently delivering what is essentially the same product? Once you’ve found your audience, narrowed your output, and continuously produce works that fit within this format, should we celebrate or criticize this type of art?

Umm guess what? We all celebrate these artists. Your favourite singer, fashion designer, painter, rapper, actor — the large majority of them have manufactured their art to speak to their audience. And we soak it up like a diaper.

But there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m obsessed with YouTube and studying artists through their interviews. Most of them acknowledge this struggle and realize that it’s this familiarity, the expectation of knowing exactly what kind of art they will produce that makes them popular.

What many of them do is turn to their side projects to express other parts of their creativity. Singers turn to fashion, actors start blog sites, writers…well, we find different outlets to write — screen writing, play writing, movies, film. They may not turn out to be our big money makers (sometimes they do), but it gives us an artistic discipline in which we can challenge ourselves and really push our creativity.

Will I always be fighting with myself? Probably. I’ve sort of made peace with that. But my goal remains the same — touch as many souls as possible, and if that takes a bit of manufacturing, then the so be it!

C.R.Y

Art Is Manufactured — Get Over It was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

My Black Writers — Let’s Stop Telling the Same Stories

We have so much more to say.

Photo by Playground.

I’m black! Not sure if you could tell from my photo, but wanted to point that out. I also wanted to make that clear because if you read the overwhelming majority of my posts, they have nothing to do with race.

Now, I was born in Trinidad and raised in Toronto. I also went to school in Western, New York for four years, during which time I travelled all across North America. I bring these things up because I could easily write a shitload of content around my experiences as a young black man in each environment. But I choose not to.

Those aren’t the stories I want to tell, and I don’t think I should be forced to constantly write about race just because people who look like me continue to be oppressed, marginalized, abused, murdered, imprisoned — I can go on. Are these things horrible? Of course. But is this what I want to write about. Nope!

Instead, I choose to write about other experiences that transcend my race. If you read any of my first two books — Thoughts of a Fractured Soul or Beauty Scars — you’ll notice there’s not one mention of race in either. Can you make certain assumptions? Sure. But I leave those inferences to the reader. My goal is to tell stories that speak to my heart.

Don’t Feel Boxed In

I hate to be critical, but in this context, it’s necessary. Living in Toronto is amazing because I can walk or take a short streetcar ride to the theatre or cinema and catch some amazing plays or movies.

But I’ve noticed that many of my black writers, producers, and directors are telling the same story. All of their stories come from a place of struggle, where black people deal with countless obstacles rooted in their race.

I’m not against writers sharing this perspective, but we have so many more experiences to offer. Not all of our stories involve jail or coming from poverty. Every script doesn’t have to involve a drug dealer, stripper, or someone trying to make it in the music industry. And even if yours does, Find an angle, voice, or some unique aspect that will make your story stand out.

Get Inspired

I only use black storytellers as an example to all writers. Don’t feel boxed in by anything, including your personal experiences. Our imagination is what makes us unique. Our ability to use our experiences to fuel our creativity and discover new worlds through our words is what’s exciting.

If you’re struggling to find inspiration, try some of these tips:

Write a paragraph about something way out of your zone  — You need to get comfortable trying new things. Start with a paragraph and see what it looks like on the page. Remember the feeling of fear and embarrassment looking at that paragraph. It’s only through fearlessness that truly inspirational writing is accomplished. Challenge voice and structure  — Thoughts of a Fractured Soul is written literally in thoughts. The structure is sporadic, chaotic, and meant to mimic the way we think. Other books like Room by Emma Donahue and Crank by Ellen Hopkins are both examples of challenging voice. Read books you normally wouldn’t read  — I just finished reading a book called Pretty Girls . Is it my “thing?” No. But I learned so much about pace, suspense, and setting that I’ve come out of reading that story a better writer. Learn from other storytellers  — I recently saw Winter’s Tale performed as a stage play. Talk about storytelling at its finest. You learn a lot about how to progress a story from theatre or cinema. Listen to music  — The best musicians are great storytellers. Sit back on a Sunday morning and really soak up your favourite artist. You’ll be surprised what you learn that can be incorporated into your writing.Push

Like I’ve mentioned, I went to the theatre to watch Winter’s Tale just this past weekend. I’m always amazed at how precisely a ballet can tell a story with no words at all, only movements and expressions.

So my challenge is for us writers to push ourselves. People are listening. They’re waiting for something refreshing, something exhilarating or a nuance they’ve never considered. Readers want to be challenged, surprised, pissed off, moved in some way. Let’s give it to them. Let’s not settle for telling and retelling the same stories over and over and over and over…you get it.

Be authentic, yes. But let your imagination roam free. I know there’s more in us guys. Let’s show the world.

C.R.Y

Read BEAUTY SCARS here.

My Black Writers — Let’s Stop Telling the Same Stories was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s Not OK to Be a Starving Artist

A breakdown of where I earn my income.

Image by: Marteen van den Heuvel

I was so excited to read this story. Four German artists nominated for the top artistic prize in their country denounced the recognition. In a joint statement, here’s a bit of what they had to say:

“We would like to stress that commitments to diversity in gender, race, and experience need to be built into the everyday operations of institutions and organizations rather than celebrated occasionally at high-profile events,” their statement reads in part. “The fact that the Preis der Nationalgalerie does not have a monetary value, and that the exhibitions and public talks of its nominees do not include fees, means that artists are rewarded only by the promise of exposure.”

Amen! I’d like to salute each of these artists. Sole Calero, Iman Issa, Jumana Manna, and Agnieszka Polska, the creative world thanks you. In fact, we need more of you in our community. Those who are not satisfied with the allure of exposure as compensation. As if exposure on it’s own represents the value of our creations.

It doesn’t. I don’t care what client or curator tells you. Your art is worth more than views, more than the promise of future, possible, monetary compensation. Your art is worth the dollar value you place on it.

But we as creatives need to demand this. Just like we pay for cell phones and other gadgets, let’s make sure the world understands that our art comes with a price tag. This is something I’ve preached over and over, to some opposition from my own peers no less. But preaching without action doesn’t work, so I’ll show you guys that it’s possible to make good money as a writer and artist.

Income Breakdown Extended contracts: Right now, I am on a six month contract for RBC. Before that, I was on a year-to-year contract with a publishing company. These contracts are usually where I make most of my money. Personal Clients: This number fluctuates month to month as I gain new clients, and other contracts expire. What I do for these clients is tell their stories. Most of the time it’s through articles on a website or blog site, but it can also be through a series of posts directly on social media. Ghost Writing : I’m part of an amazing team of writers who ghost write for some pretty cool clients. We’re sworn to NDA’s, but some of our work is on publications such as Forbes, Time, Inc, Elle Magazine, Global Citizen, and more. These gigs pay well. Creative Writing Projects: This year, I’ve co-written a book and wrote a screenplay for this first time. Both of these were done for clients and combined added up to over $10,000. Influencer Campaigns : My most recent Influencer campaign was with CCFC. They pay me monthly to write on subjects that are tid to their causes. I do this through my HuffPost blog. Guest Blogging: I’ve been paid and continue to get paid for guest blogging gigs. Book Sales: This isn’t lucrative yet, but I make money every quarter from the sales of my first two books. Random : Sometimes people find me on sites like Monster, Indeed, or sometimes even Linkedin and ask me to do random, one time projects. This includes writing the copy for a website they are building, or something much more niche.

My point is that no one writing project is going to make you enough income to where you can sustain yourself. You need to hone you skills so you are versatile enough as a writer to capitalize on the opportunities that present themselves.

I also don’t even entertain these “pay you later” deals. If you want to work with me, then come with an offer and get ready to negotiate. Do I have passion projects? Of course. But I choose which of those projects are worth putting in huge amounts of time without any guarantee of financial gain.

Listen, no one is going to value our work unless we demand it. So let’s collectively take a stand and start demanding we get paid and paid well. Clients will get the message soon enough, especially if we are united in our efforts as artists.

Really hope I at least let you know that creativity can be rewarded. It takes a lot of work, a little patience, and an unyielding will to stick to your guns.

It’s Not OK to Be a Starving Artist was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This Cracked Rock

Nothing seems possible on these days.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema

On these days when headlights glare before the workday is over.

These days when every step carries deep thought and you’ve stared out of the of the streetcar window so long you forget where you are.

Or where you’re going. Or why the thing that’s on your mind is so important.

Because that thing on your mind is the only thing. That thing on your mind has taken over. Nothing else matters. Not in this moment.

I have these days from time to time. Nothing seems possible on these days. Everything feels pointless. Ambition has gone somewhere and is reaching back for hope.

Usually I’m a rock.

C.R.Y

This Cracked Rock was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Alone!

Image by: Krystasia Carter

This probably isn’t a post for writers. We make a living being alone. We make a living inscribing our own thoughts on laptops or paper or crumpled pieces of napkins. We spend even more time thinking about these inscriptions both before they are written and after.

It’s during my writing process when I most need to be alone. And I really do mean NEED. I’m not one of those writers who can spit out Milton type shit on a streetcar. Quiet is comforting. Stillness is comforting. Being able to hear conversations through my apartment window or being present enough to smell cigarette or weed smoke from that same opening is bliss for me.

Even more so when I’m not writing.

There’s a character in my novel BEAUTY SCARS named Justin. In building his character, I make it seem like he absolutely hates being alone. He invites people over constantly and always seems to be up to something. But then I have him explain himself, and I think it makes sense.

Justin says that for three or four days a week, he’s surrounded by people. That’s his choice. But for the other three or four days, he’s alone. Completely alone. No going out, no answering phone calls, no meeting up for brunch. He takes those days to remind himself of who he is, distinct from who he has to be in the crowd.

I think we can all take a lesson from Justin. In my experiences, many of my female friends struggle with this. They struggle with the thought of being physically by themselves. I’m not sure if it’s just my group of friends or if this totally common, but many of them flat out tell me that they are often in relationships just to avoid being alone, at least initially.

This scares me. It scares me because these are the same friends who struggle the most with their self-esteem. These are the friends who get hurt and abused by their partners but aren’t yet strong enough to leave. I’m close enough to my female friends for them to express these feelings to me, and it breaks my heart every time.

Let me be clear. I’m not suggesting that by simply spending time alone, these women will solve whatever issues has caused them to feel inferior. I am merely suggesting that in those moments spent alone, you are better able to understand who you are without the pressure to be a version of yourself. You’re able to sit and understand why you’re thinking in a certain way. Even more simply, you’re able to think. And sometimes, that’s all it takes to figure out what YOU want and make decisions that better serve your own life.

Guys, we’re susceptible to this, as well, although I think our process and outcomes are different. I see so many guys struggle to articulate an independent thought. We have this pack mentality that see’s us regurgitating whatever perspective our friends believe to be true.

Get us by ourselves and ask us the same questions and see how we answer. I’ve done this with guys many times before. So often, their true thoughts often vary and sometimes outright change from what they said when they were in the pack.

Again, I’m not suggesting time spent alone will directly change this behaviour, but I can safely say it will make a difference. It will help us to make decisions based on what we really think, not what the world or our friend groups tell us we should think.

And that’s the real danger. That’s why I make it a point to steal time throughout each day and days throughout each week to be alone. I know that for some people, being alone is torture. For many people, the thought of being by themselves for any extended period of time boils the emotions. But trust me when I say that without this time for self reflection, self analysis, and just to give your mind a break from being “on,” it’s difficult to know who you really are.

C.R.Y

If you enjoyed this, you’ll enjoy reading my novel, BEAUTY SCARS .

Alone! was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Addicted

This is an unedited, raw, guest post from poet Tiffani Williams.

Image by Nikko Macaspac

You were the best thing I had ever tasted. So strong and powerful, like nothing I’ve experienced before. I grew fonder of you as the days went by. Taking in a little more each day. I loved you…the way you made me feel…the way you made me think. I was a better person with you around…had me so high in the sky I couldn’t see anything else. I was blinded by your love…I didn’t mind this because that meant I couldn’t see the rest of the fucked up things in my life. I surrendered to you. I indulged you…knowing that I could risk becoming addicted and being completely honest, I didn’t care. My body and soul craved you in ways you weren’t willing to give to me. You wanted to sample other drugs. You weren’t ready to become addicted to me the way that I am to you. You’re young, and I get that…but if you weren’t ready to become addicted to one drug…committed to one. Well, that just means you’re too young…too immature to have me. This drug…my love…is way too powerful for your veins. I gave up my life to have been with you. Now I’m left aching, with all the memories and feelings. I’m left with the ashes of our relationship…we burnt bright but we burned fast. Left with the self-inflicted cuts and scars, tears running down my face at 2am wondering what went wrong. I got high off of you…I loved every minute of it. But like any drug its temporary…you always have to come back down.

C.R.Y

Addicted was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Alive!

There’s no other way to put it.

I feel so grand right now. I feel like a little kid who got all the gifts he wanted for Christmas. Why? If you follow me on social media, you’ll know that just last week, a billboard of BEAUTY SCARS was lifted over my city.

I’ve been planning this for months, so keeping it a secret was just as hard as actually making it happen. But it did happen, and that image will continue to live over Toronto till the holiday season. Really, though, it will stay with me forever.

To be completely honest, I really didn’t think it was a big deal. But the way people around the city have reacted, I’m realizing that this really is a moment to embrace. So I’m embracing it, and writing about it, and celebrating it as I now know it should be celebrated.

This is the reason I titled this post Alive! Why should I wait to be faced with death or impossible odds or some blatant wake up call before I start feeling this way? I love what I do. I love everything about writing and sharing stories, real or imagined.

It’s crazy because I keep finding these eerie similarities between my real life and my novel. (Bit of a spoiler alert here.) Like for instance, it takes a life threatening incident to make Treasure, the main character in BEAUTY SCARS, to figure out how much more there is to her life. I’ll stop there because I don’t want to ruin it for anyone, but I’m recognizing how much I write about things that scare the shit out of me.

If you ever read my first book, a novella called THOUGHTS OF A FRACTURED SOUL, the entire story frightens the f*ck out of me. The story is about a young dreamer who never lives up to his potential. Go back and read my blogs. You’ll know first hand how much that thought alone makes my bones shiver.

But I don’t know, guys; things are happening. I’m feeling it. I’m seeing what’s happening around me, watching things fall into place, and I’m just really excited. I don’t know if I should be saying that, but who cares. Life is beautiful. I’m Alive!

C.R.Y

Get your copy of BEAUTY SCARS today.

Alive! was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

She Said My Daughter Was an Accident

I told her thank you

Her and Me

I’ve always struggled with this. Just the thought or belief that there’s no such thing as an accident is both scary and exhilarating. I think I’m more on the scary side, actually. To think that every encounter, every fuck-up, every step or lesson I’ve learned was meant to be is truly a frightening thought.

I’ve thought about this whole accident thing so much that the entire premise of my novel BEAUTY SCARS is based on the main character becoming beautiful by “accident.” Actually, it’s literally an accident that starts off the book, with Treasure being hit by a car. But that encounter with fate changes the trajectory of her entire life.

They say that writers can never remove themselves from a story no matter how hard we try. It’s only through reflection that I realize how true this statement can be, and how much of my own life seeps into the stories I tell. The thing is, I had my daughter when I was still a teenager. If you ask me if I deliberately got her mother pregnant, my answer would be no. That assumes that my daughter, by definition, was an accident. But never for a second, not once, did I ever feel like she was not purposely placed into my life.

But that seems like such a contradiction, doesn’t it? How can something I didn’t intend to happen not be an accident? I’d answer that by saying it’s all about perspective. I said that I never looked at my daughter as some kind of mistake. But when she was first born, I have to admit that I did have a difficult time seeing what the plan was. I didn’t have much money (understatement), had to move out of my mom’s house, and I chose to pass up all of the scholarship offers so I can stay in Toronto and help raise my daughter. Those are tough times for an 18-year-old.

Tough, yes, but I’ve endured it. More than that, I’ve excelled. And I would say that both my personal and professional life has been enriched a million times over because of my daughter. She taught me the real meaning of unconditional love. She taught me about responsibility, patience, and has fueled my ambition more than any other factor combined, on par with my own insane desire. How can any of that be an accident? It can’t. I know that now and knew it even before I could articulate it as well as I can today.

I was getting a haircut the other day and my barber used the term “bad blessings.” I can’t remember exactly what he meant, but I’ll tell you what it meant for me. Bad blessings are those moments in which we can’t immediately see the positive. The incident is often to painful for us to see anything past our immediate emotions. That is the bad. But what comes out of those instances can trigger a lifetime of new and beautiful moments. Those seemingly “bad” moments force you to change your perspective and it’s up to you what that change looks like. That is the blessing.

I took night school to get my final high school credit after my daughter was born and I initially dropped out of high school. I remember vividly having a conversation with my night school teacher who told me boldly that my daughter was a mistake. I laughed like I’m laughing now while I’m writing this. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m so happy you feel that way.”

C.R.Y

Read BEAUTY SCARS here.

She Said My Daughter Was an Accident was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Insecure — What a Powerful Word

I think there’s a power in the word insecure. When I think of someone who is insecure, I think of someone who cares about something so much that it pains them if that thing isn’t exactly right. That’s beautiful. To be vulnerable enough to say that THIS MATTERS and YES I care about what you think takes a form of courage.

I always joke with people that I have no insecurities. I tell them that I’m confident in anything that matters. Putting to the side that confidence is not the opposite of insecurity, my line about not ever feeling insecure is pretty much bullshit.

Hesitant, Self-Conscious, Shy

Uncertain, anxious, doubtful — these are some of the words used to define insecure. That’s pretty much how I feel every time I write. Am I still confident? Yes. But do I also experience all of those other emotions that would cause me to be somewhat unsure of the work I’m doing, the work that matters, the work that will be made public; hell yes.

It’s no accident that musicians take stage names. Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, Lana Del Rey; a simple measure to put some distance between these individuals and the character they’ve created. And even the ones who decide they don’t need that textual buffer, many musicians admit to putting themselves in a different state of mind in order to perform or create their music.

That’s when insecurity can be powerful; when it’s used to fuel other parts of your character. I absolutely hate speaking about my personal life in conversation, but if you read through my blogs, you’ll know nearly every significant event — monumental and incremental — that has made me who I am today. It would take me months and sometimes years to get just one of those pieces out in face to face interaction.

But in the same vein, it’s easy to see the power of insecurity in the opposite direction. This is the insecurity an individual would spew at his partner. This is the insecurity that would make a 15-year-old feel inadequate because her hair isn’t as long as that girl on IG. That’s the same insecurity that drives someone to harm themselves because they feel less than enough.

Semi-spoiler alert: in my novel Beauty Scars, the insecurity doesn’t show itself in the way you would immediately think. Yes, the idea of beauty is an important thread that carries the novel, but how that thread is weaved is surprising.

In real life, we say beauty and immediately think of the physical. The love and pursuit of physical beauty is the foundation of much of the negative insecurity that drives our culture. And let’s not blame that on social media. The worshipping of what we have collectively decided to be labelled as beautiful started long before SnapChat filters. (See feature photo.)

Here’s another thought: Is the desire to be physically beautiful such a bad thing? Sit with that question for a second before immediately reacting. I know what I’ve written above, but can we draw a straight line from admiring beauty to insecurity?

Certainly, the object of your insecurity that can be problematic. But why does that insecurity inspire some while it destroys others? How can some people stare insecurity in the face and with an anxious, uncertain, and doubtful heart still perform small wonders? Maybe it isn’t the internal pursuit of beauty, but the external pressure to be beautiful.

As I hope you can see, I’m merely posing questions here. From one insecure person to another, from one inspired person to those who feel their insecurity difficult to overcome; feeling secure in who you are helps quiet the noise of everyone and everything telling you how you should be.

But those are my thoughts, my reality. Maybe I know what I’m talking about, maybe none of this makes sense. We all interpret the world through a different set of eyes and that interpretation guides our behaviour.

Only you can decide what’s important, what matters, who’s opinion matters, and what makes you feel the way you do. Give something power and watch yourself submit. Take that power into your own hands and watch yourself rise.

C.R.Y

Read my novel BEAUTY SCARS here.

Insecure — What a Powerful Word was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.