Jun. 4th, 2010

marshtide: (Default)
I will write a story about the sea between 1,000 and 10,000 words by the 10th of July. (This is where it would help if I owned a boat right now.)

It hasn't been much of a year for writing. I try not to go on about writing angst because, you know, it's writing angst. It tends to sound the same all over the place, from everyone. I do have it, though, in a way. Most of all I think any attempts to write suffer from the same thing as my attempts to do absolutely anything else: the fear that whatever I do will be somehow wrong. Not that it will be "bad writing" or "poorly developed" or "boring", though OK, I'm not wild on those ideas either - but that I will somehow do something so hideously, outrageously wrong that no-one will ever speak to me again and I won't be able to live with myself either. I can, I should add, suffer from this fear when thinking about whether to put the mugs away on the right or left side of the cupboard. It is emphatically not rational.

Which I guess is what a badly managed anxiety disorder looks like! There you go.

(I keep telling myself that one of these days I should work up some non-fiction ideas and maybe try pitching some stuff out there, but can you imagine! Talking about Actual Factual Stuff! Me! The things my brain can do with that idea! It's utterly convinced that I have nothing worth saying & should just shut up at the best of times, and when I'm only talking to a tiny online journal audience in a fairly informal way. Which is why I am maybe kind of bad at posting.)


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