Monday, January 25, 2010

Raise Your Hand if You're Sure...

Last night I lay there thinking and a huge wave of uncertainty engulfed my spirit. I suddenly felt like I was wasting my time trying to write a book. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself it is a work in progress and if it takes me 4 years to lean grammar and the proper writing techniques I need to be a complete writer, then I am Ok with that...


It has taken all day to ride myself of this feeling, it was quite disheartening. What finally brought me back to the world of reality, was one thought.

It really does not matter… that’s right it really does not matter.

If all I accomplish is writing an ok book I can give to friends and family then that is better than not trying at all. If all I accomplish is 400 pages I get to throw in the trash then so be it. I resided myself to know that no matter what happens I am growing, learning, understanding and expanding my intellect and understand of the English word by my actions… What’s wrong with that? Nothing…

I hope if anyone reads this, you take one thing from it… and that would be this.

You are the only one that can give up, you are the only one that can refuse to learn, you are the only one that can finish what you’ve started, you can only strive to be better than you were, you can only keep your head up and have faith in what you’re capable of. You, you, you, you, if you won’t do it, who will. If you give up you’re the only one to blame.

I have been down this road before, and probably will again. If I have learned anything about writing it’s that self-doubt waits to bring you down…

Nothing will ever stop me from believing in myself. I hope you feel the same about yourself, because no one can make you feel that way… except YOU.

Best of luck and thx for your support, I appreciate any comment you might leave…

Special thx goes out to: Steph, Shakespeare , and Carrie Sund… you three pick me up and carry me through the dark. It might sound cheesy but it is true. Your constant support is invaluable. thx

5 comments:

  1. I think most writers get that feeling. I think it comes from not just wanting to write, but wanting to write something *good*. I know that I have times when I read my stuff and say, "Damn, I'm good." Other times when I read something I really love and then read my stuff, I get all discouraged.

    In the end, the act of writing is worth it to me, the pursuit of excellence. And I couldn't stop without spiralling into insanity.

    So, you're in company, hopefully the good kind.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think that writing draws the kind of person with a certain amount of self-loathing. I know that I hate almost everything I write, I do it for the pure enjoyment of the act itself. It wasn't until a friend of mine read one of my stories (without my knowledge which at the time really pissed me off) and I saw that it had brought her to tears that I realized that maybe I wasn't as bad as I thought.

    What keeps me going is having someone I trust to be honest, usually my girlfriend, read my work. The truth can be brutal sometimes but knowing that they will tell you when you suck makes it easier to believe them when they say they love it.

    Keep your head up, keep writing. Most of our stories will probably never see the light of day, but if getting published was easy would any of us want it so bad?

    ReplyDelete
  3. I wrote a comment, but it never goes through the first time! Darn!

    You are welcome, and thanks for your encouragement, too!

    I write as therapy--to get hurts, missed opportunities, and other questions on paper. Then I can sleep better at night. In fact, I don't write to be published, but to stay sane. You should see how insane I get after a few weeks of not writing! Eeek!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I really love your positive thinking. It's hard to think that way like you do.

    ReplyDelete
  5. What you have written has really hit home for me. It is the way I feel also. I know this comment is short, but what can I say that you haven't already here? Great post!

    ReplyDelete