I have no words because I’ve been comparing myself to others again. I’ve been following new disabled writers who write with fire and passion to advocate for themselves and others. I’ve been reading new novelists whose words flow together as if they are a melody carried on the wind.
No matter how riled up I get, I can’t write with the kind of fire and passion the advocates can. I have plenty of it inside, but it doesn’t come through my words. I don’t write prose that sounds musical either. I try not to compare myself with others very often, because I know many quietly brilliant writers. Their words shine as if they are newly polished. Some other people aren’t quiet about their brilliance–they don’t rub it in your face, but they sure make themselves a hard act to follow.
I want to be counted as one of the writers with disabilities who matter, who set the bar for vulnerability and passion and words that might just outlive me. If only someone would help me figure out how to step up and let myself shine….