"Life has no limitations, except the ones you make." Les Brown

Independence Day is fast approaching, and while we honor those who fought and died to give us our freedom (both in 1776 and in subsequent battles since then), we also need to ask what side we are on in terms of our creative pursuits.

Are we on the side of tyranny—a poor economy, adversarial editors, uninterested publishers or unrealistic clients?

Or are we on the side of freedom, willing to pursue our craft in spite of the battles ahead, willing to do what matters to ensure our artistic integrity, willing to confront and defeat our own fears because, in the end, it’s the writing that matters?

Wage your own war against what is holding you back. Break down the limitations that stand between you and your work.

“I seldom think about my limitations, and they never make me sad." Helen Keller

Many of us operate as two people when we write. Initially, we’re the creative writer who is getting it all down on paper or screen—wonderful prose, lyrical poetry, fiction or fact, it doesn’t matter. We are on a roll! We are on fire! We are writing our hearts and souls and minds out!

And then the other person takes over—the nasty executive editor who criticizes every thought, word and punctuation mark, who laughs at our sad parts and fails to chuckle at the funny ones, who sends us fleeing from our desk convinced that our limitations are too great to overcome.

It’s challenging to strive for perfection when we’re not certain it’s within our grasp But that shouldn’t stop us from trying to improve, both as writers and as people.

We can’t let our concept of our limitations shake us, break us, destroy our dreams or deflect us from our goal.

Limitations exist to challenge us to overcome them, not to stop us from trying.

And so you touch this limit, something happens and you suddenly can go a little bit further." Ayrton Senna

The full quote is "And so you touch this limit, something happens and you suddenly can go a little bit further. With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high."

What about you--do you "fly high" in your writing? Or do you limit yourself as a writer? For example, do you refrain from exploring new subject areas simply because they are unfamiliar to you? Do you hold back from attempting new forms of writing because you haven’t done them before? Do you give up on achieving writing success (however you define it) because it has eluded you so far?

Instead of looking at these self-imposed limits as barriers set in stone, think of them as infinitely expandable exercise bands. Each time you stretch them (by stretching yourself and your capabilities), you become stronger, more flexible, more adaptable.

Look back: have you moved beyond where you were a year (or decade) ago in terms of your writing? If not, your “writing muscles” are becoming atrophied. Resolve now to start stretching them. You will be a better writer for the challenge!

"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit."-- Richard Bach

Are you a “real writer”? And what is a “real writer” anyway?

When I teach writing classes, I like to open by asking my students a little about themselves. Those who have not yet been published tend to say something like “Well, I like to write but I haven’t had anything published yet. So I'm not really a writer.”

Those who have been published but without financial compensation say “I like to write and I have had a couple poems/short stories/essays/articles published but I haven’t got paid yet. So I'm not a professional writer.”

The first group assumes publication confers a true “writer” status while the second group assumes it’s the dollars that make the difference between an amateur and a professional.

And then there is the third group: the ones who are receiving an income (however erratic) from their writing. All too often, they identify their level of professionalism by the size of the paycheck—whether or not they are “six-figure” writers.

We are so busy categorizing ourselves by external criteria—publication credits or paycheck—that we overlook the real definition of a writer: a writer is a person who writes. Period.

What about you? What does being a “real writer” mean to you? Are you allowing your doubts about your ability to live up to that definition keep you from the paper or keyboard?

And when do you feel most like a “real writer”?

“Age is something that doesn’t matter unless you are a cheese”—Billie Burke

There was a time when I wanted to be the youngest writer to win the Pulitzer Prize. Never mind that I didn’t do the kind of writing that would net me the award. I just wanted to achieve that level before I got “too old.”

Well, needless to say, I didn’t reach that goal. But while I wouldn’t turn it down if it was offered to me, I no longer think in terms of being “too old” to do something—or anything.

Some people come into their own at an early age. But others of us take long, circuitous routes to reach the place where we belong.

In my case, although I have been writing all my life, it wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I actually was paid for it. And it wasn't until my fiftieth birthday that my first book was published.

Given that track record, I refuse to believe that my best years are behind me. There is still so much I want to accomplish, personally and professionally, that I don't think I will ever be “too old” to try.

What about you? Are you setting age-based limitations on your goals or are you focusing more on the process and less on your age?