on writing

Writing is suddenly hard for me. I can sit there for ages “writing” in my head, but the second I try and actually type it out, it’s gone. It’s like it’s suddenly too difficult – if I’m just rambling and internal-monologue-ing, it’s just thoughts. I don’t have to worry about syntax or “showing not telling” or grammar (okay, who are we kidding, I always worry about grammar). The second I start putting it on the page or the screen, it’s gone. I draw a blank and the words and feelings I was trying to get out are just… gone.

And it’s too bad, really, because the times I feel most like myself? Those are the times I’m writing – even if it’s just in my mind. Writing is the thing that gives me the most hope for my future – the ability to believe maybe someday I can make a difference or do something worthwhile through the only means I know how.

I know that – like most things – the more you write, the better you get. The more you write, the easier it comes (at least, this has always been the case with me). But the idea of writing and knowing it’s not what it could be, not as good as my capabilities allow, stresses me out. The idea of feeling things SO strongly and SO deeply and trying to put that into words and failing, but still sharing it with the world… it is the number one reason writing is difficult for me.

Honestly, it makes me want to carry a tape recorder and start recording everything I’m thinking, verbally, so I can transcribe it later. For various and obvious reasons, this is not feasible, but sometimes I wish I could.

But I’m tired of wanting. I’m tired of holding myself back when I could choose to do otherwise.

And so, I hereby vow to (at least attempt to) suck it up, get over it, and just write. We’ll see where it takes me.

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