I’m a Terrible Writer

There, I said it. Though I feel I may need to clarify things. My writing is not terrible, I’m just very bad at sitting down to write. If anything these last few weeks inside have made me realize all the excuses I’ve made for not finishing this or starting that are just excuses. Time is not my problem. Motivation is not my problem. I’m always thinking about my writing projects, what would a three a.m. wide-awake torture session be without thinking about a new emotional motivation for one character or another. Even the act of sitting down and writing is not the problem, I enjoy it when I do it. It truly is just getting me to sit at the table.

One thing I came to realize was that I love starting things but hate finishing them. I suppose once you finish something it is no longer yours alone. You must share it with the world. It’s a little like removing a well stuck on band-aid. You’ll be glad to get it off but those little hairs stuck to it hurt like a mother.

I don’t know if there is a mind exercise that can ease this. As I am sure it is all in my head. Well of course it is, though now it’s leaked out onto this blog and may be in your head too. I really am convinced that finishing a project is much more involved than typing, “The End.” Nor is it as simple as thickening up our skin and waiting for the responses to it. There must be some kind of ritual, some kind of separation phase. All these words that were once mine alone now belong to all. I must send them out into the cold world of an impersonal submission email for the umpteenth time. Then again, who says that has to be the way? Haven’t you heard of posthumously published. There I go again. No one should have to die, least of all me, so that I can finish something.

The whole point of sharing this is that maybe you are doing the same mental gymnastics or fighting the same irrational mind beast. The harsh reality is that the only way to be a writer is to write. I wouldn’t say everything you write has to be read. Know in your heart that some of what you’ve written, when the time is right, will have to be let go.

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