Let’s face it: I have been having a lot of trouble lately. With writing that is. It’s not been easy to get myself to sit in front of the computer and write, although it is what I want to do. Willingly (and almost with enthusiasm), I’ve been running off to take part in almost any activity that isn’t writing. And I’m not wholly certain why.
This morning, while journaling, I examined a little as to why I’ve been having this issue. Of course there’s fear and stress over it. Why try to prove that I am any better at this thing that I love than terrible? Why sit down and do the task when deep down I believe that I don’t have what it takes to make this a career? Why not allow myself to make the choices that don’t hold me accountable for doing the task? It’s easy to effectively throw in the towel on the whole endeavor without actually having to admit that I am throwing in the towel. Do the work of writing because it’s fun, but when push comes to shove, back down and refuse to do the necessary work. Why? Because doing so might prove those negative voices wrong. I might really prove to myself that I am capable of doing this whole writing thing.
In truth, I know there are many people that have faced the same point I have. I am sure that there are many people who face it daily. Some overcome it — they persevere — they push through the negative voices to create what they believe they need to create. Most times, I do this. But only so far in that I push myself to keep going back and writing. Any of the other work — revisions, edits, plotting, planning, learning, etc — all fall astray, rarely to be tackled.
Partly I believe that in doing so, I will not only confirm that I am not a good writer, but I will also prove to myself that it is all beyond repair. Sure, I know that it isn’t necessarily the truth. It might very well be the case that my writing is and always will be sub-par. Should that matter though? The only question that I should be asking is whether it is better than what I’ve written previously. If it is, great! If it isn’t, then keep trying. Even as I know these things, it remains a struggle. It remains a fear.
Like above, there are many people who face this fear and fall aside. They don’t go back to writing. They abandon it. Too much work. Too much strain on their mental capacity to push through. Sometimes I feel like following that path. It’d be so much easier to throw it in and read or watch TV instead. The keys keep calling me to press my fingers upon them. The characters keep calling to me as though one were to call to God. And much like a masochist, I must return to the pain that brings me so much pleasure.
Writing isn’t easy. By God, it sucks so badly sometimes. And dealing with these fears, these anxieties, these urges to make excuses, doesn’t make it any easier. Some days it is downright unbearable. Here I am though. Here I am taking my punishment and returning to the page, hoping that in some way that I will be able to produce another work, to produce something of value to someone.
I know that this essay is a day late. I was supposed to post something on Friday. Instead, it’s Saturday. And Saturday evening at that. Right after I backed off from the daily posting in order to focus more on writing fiction, everything seemed to run amok. Schedules became bastardized and what I believed was my ability to write fiction at a pace of 1,000+ words a day vanished. Maybe I knew it would happen; maybe I didn’t. Either way, it happened. Like usual, I have to figure out a way to resolve it. I do not wish to stop. I will keep writing. Even if I never get anywhere, I will keep trying.
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