Yesterday I tried to write and…
No wait that’s not true. Yesterday I thought I should write. Because it’s the weekend and I have lots more time. Because I wanted to get a head-start on a draft 1. Because I want to have a fighting chance of doing a re-write rather than a last minute polish/check for typos.
But I didn’t. I got ate and drank instead. I ignored the need to write and ignored my diet.
Well because the ‘fear’ returned. It’s a weird thing to try to explain to other, non-crazy, people but the idea of writing can make me feel afraid. Obviously it’s not a fear for my physical safety or well-being. It’s more that I worry that I’ll fail and that that will be really really bad. Or that I’ll find out finally and definitively that I’m not any good and destined always to be a something-in-computers rather than a writer. To be honest even as I write this there’s a part of me shying away from thinking too hard about the fear.
But in a weird way I’m glad I felt it again, even if it stopped me writing yesterday. Without sounding too pretentious I think that if I’m not feeling that then it means I’m not pushing myself, which means I’m not producing anything worthwhile. I kinda feel writing should be hard – not just hard work as in time spent and energy invested but hard psychologically. It should require digging into yourself and asking searching questions. Because in the end all you’ve really got to offer as a writer is yourself and how you see the world.
Maybe that’s it – maybe if I was a healthy, well-balanced, emotionally together person I wouldn’t feel it was so hard to write because I wouldn’t have any fear of putting myself on paper and letting others see it. As it is I want/need to and fear it at the same time.
The real trick – and this is where I went wrong yesterday – is to not run away from the fear but confront it and do it anyway.