It's driving me crazy, having all these ideas bouncing around inside my tiny little skull. I feel like I'm out of sync with the world, like I don't belong in this place or time. I long for the epic quest, the saving of the world through daring deeds. Maybe not even saving the world, maybe just being here while the world is ending, feeling as though something was happening.
I think I just realized that I am absolutely terrified of the blank page. The empty space. I almost didn't write this post, just like I haven't written hundreds of posts before, because it was easier to run away than to try and fill up that little white box. The problem is that the little white box looks big, it looks gigantic, and it's terrifying, how can I ever fill that? It does not make much sense, I know, because I could not fill it if I tried, because it's just a text box, which will grow to accommodate whatever I put within it's boundaries.
Maybe it's also terrifying because I have all these ideas in my head, I mena, I've been living in various fantasies as long as I can remember, so there's really no shortage. I'm afraid though, still, of something. I'm afraid of not living up to what I want to be, a Writer, with a capital W. It's too hard and I'm not good enough.
Well, of course I'm not good enough. I don't write! How would I be good enough? How often does someone sit down and tap out the world's best novel? I'm fairly sure it's never happened, so why do I expect that of myself? I guess it all comes back to that longing. I don't want to be mediocre, I'm terrified and angered by being mediocre, and that is truly ridiculous. I expect too much. Only in some regards, though, such as this. Anything professional, really, I need to be above and beyond, but without having to apply the extra effort.
Some days I'd like nothing better than to be mediocre, to be satisfied with the simpler things, to be able to relax. I guess I just have to keep working on that. Because the only one who can help myself, in this respect, is me.
1 comment:
I think it's a myth, in the sense of falsehood not epic tale of origin, that you are the only one (or even one of one) that can help you. You see we all need helps, helpers, and lots of helpings -- not of sweets or fats though -- always in moderation these. Why I would never have thought possible the last two years of schooling. Incredible odds really, but here I sit and I think Athabasca will give me credit for ALL my courses. Can you imagine???
But back to you who is after all the most important topic, since it is YOUR blog.
No I want to commend you for filling up that never ending text box. For just writing. It's like finding the perfect mate (for most of us that is...you, you just fall into a manure pile and come up smellin' roses)[and you can tell Mal I said that, she'll get it].
No, one thing you could do to get writing is to visit blogs, my blog for instance, and make comments. Then it's not for public purview, but just one (or maybe 3 or so ) of other commentators.
Now you see that frees you up. You know when I was a kid and took art classes in the manse (Willistead just across from where you were married) the art teacher made us each take one of the precious -- and I might add very expensive -- pieces of watercolor or sketch paper or whatever it was we had to bring. Then we had to ball it up and crush it, sit on it, just wreck it. Now that was a horror for all of us. We could just see our parents whacking us over the head with cast iron frying pans for wasting paper!! But for some reason that softened paper took the medium better, it yielded to it and we actually had something that worked WITH us not against us.
Just a thought. Or you could just go and watch Reality TV. Might be just as unblocking for your creativity muse.
Hugs, m
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