She waited for the moment she’d be discovered. Her brilliance finally exposed to the world. The fantastical words she hammered and shaped entrancing all who heard them. The words, though, existed only in her head. Whenever she held pen in hand, she froze and for as much as the words danced melodically in her head, they didn’t transition to her hand. So she’d stare at blank pages, heart palpitating, and she’d remember that fear existed at the core of her essence. Fear to be exposed as a wannabe artist imitating another’s brilliance. Better to wait than stumble over and over.