Confessions can bring out the deepest liberation in the soul of a man. With a simple declaration, I can break chains that have fettered me for years, or create a future to dance in to. But it’s my choice as to how I’ll wield the weapon that is my tongue. Is that true or what?

My friend Jeff Goins has kicked off a new blog series: Mastering the Habits of Great Writers. I have willfully joined the 15 day journey to create habits that will enable me to become a better writer (and it’s still not too late for you to join).

Today’s exercise was simple: declare you’re a writer.

I think it’s no secret that I’m a writer, though I oftentimes keep my words secret from the world. The majority of my creativity is compounded within the pages of my journal; a place that I harbor my thoughts with great selfishness. Maybe I need to get over myself a little bit.

I remember the first time that I wanted to become a writer. I was in college – an eager and egotistical schmuck – and ventured away from campus one day to satisfy a frequent craving: coffee and emotional release. It wasn’t uncommon to find me tucked away in the corner of coffee shops, pen in hand and scribbling away violently on the page. It was the best way that I processed and this day was no different.

It was somewhere between cups two and three that I paused to reflect on how I felt cocooned in the aroma of coffee, with the carnage of my thoughts scattered on paper. I felt more alive than I ever thought possible. And it was in that moment that I recall thinking, “I want to do this forever.” I wanted to be a writer.

And today is really no different. I feel a strong connection with words and I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s not like I’m having a romantic affair with the English language, I’m just enthralled with the way that authors, poets, and writers of all types use words to communicate. It makes me want to do the same thing.

I want to write books. I want to write novels, screen plays, and columns for various publications. Honestly, it’s one of my dreams that has never fluttered away – just one that I’ve placed on the forgotten shelf in the closet.

This public confession is good. It’s healthy. And the best part is that it’s challenging me to really wrestle this with integrity.

I am a writer. It’s time I start writing towards my dream.