So there’s this little part of your brain that helps with completing tasks. It’s called Executive Brain Function or something. I don’t know where the hell mine is, because a lot of the time when things are thiiiiiiiis close to being done and… oh look, squirrel!
It’s the worst with my writing. I have no problem sitting down and writing on something, even the same something – but apparently it has to be far from completion.
I’m sitting here with a manuscript and all that has to be done is finish deleting as many filter words as possible. What do I do? Write on other stuff. Organize the house. Work, of course. Frolic with four-legged friends.
Okay, so I did just move and that kind of gets in the way. But it’s frustrating to be so close and just feel like I’m stopped for absolutely no reason. Now I’m wondering if I’m unconsciously holding myself back because of the deep-seated terror plaguing most writers that I write crap. Which is stupid, because duh, how will I be able to find out if I don’t try?
The paralysis is reaching other areas too. I’m worried I’m doing the stupid author platform thing wrong. I’m second guessing everything I do with editing. I’m not sure I like where the second book is going. It’s so easy to hole up someplace and tacka-tacka away on the keyboard for hours, away in the dark depth of my brain where no one sees. Writing makes me happy. Fulfills something crucial to my being. Whoop de do, but the whiny little part of me is like, I don’t have to publish, right? I can just keep it to myself and be in my own little worlds and no one has to know. Yay! Problem solved.
Yeesh.
Along with that fear is the fear that I just won’t be interesting enough for people to want to read. The only thing I figure I can do is be as genuine as possible – because that’s ultimately what people are attracted to, genuine and unique things – while still accepting the advice and growth opportunities from those smarter than me. Forget all the mean-spirited criticism – or even worse, the ignoring. Focus on “being me.” (<– Does anyone else make a face every time you read or write that? No? Just me? Crap.)
So, anybody got any tricks on how to balance being true to yourself while putting yourself out there in a very terrifying away? Or you can share your “oh my god feelings” and we can attempt to make each other feel better!
Please.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit at a typewriter and bleed.” – Ernest Hemingway
I wish I could help you. Unfortunately, my brain refuses to behave too.