My eyes ache, and it is beginning to spread to my temples. I have spent the last hour sitting at my laptop, writing. Or attempting to at least. I haven’t written in at least a month, and I finally got motivated tonight. I’m writing a short story/novella if I’m being ambitious, and for a while I was writing a bit every night. Since that stopped however, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to get back in the zone. And tonight I really struggled to get down anything good.
The trouble with writing is that most of the time, I can’t shake the notion that I’m just not very good. Even as I type the words, the voice in my head is saying ‘well, this is just boring. No one is going to read this’. There are people who will disagree with me, but you know what they say about being your own worst critic. It doesn’t matter how many people tell me I’m a good writer, or how often, I still doubt myself constantly. It can make it incredibly difficult to do anything productive.
I read things from a girl I went to school with who is quite an accomplished writer, and has work published, and I try to get inspired. I read quotes from famous authors who say to write this way, or that way, or give you ‘Ten Tips and Tricks to Publishing That First Novel’. I listen to my patient and encouraging best friend, who constantly reminds me to stay motivated. And I write a blog because at least I’m writing something. But the thing I actually want to be writing, the thing I actually want success with stumps me every time. It’s like trying to get to a destination, only to have your journey stalled by an impenetrable wall.
I know that I want to write. I want to be a published author. It’s been my life’s goal since I was a teeny child. I’ve been writing stories since I could hold a pen, and all I’ve ever wanted to do is be like my heroes, those marvellous humans that share their imaginations on ink and paper. I’ve grown up with book, devouring every story I could lay my hands on, and I know, probably more surely than anything else, that I want to join the ranks of established, published authors. But first, I need to keep pushing past the crippling self doubt. And that’s the hardest part.
If anyone knows a cure for no motivation and severe doubt in one’s abilities, let me know. Hell knows I’ve gotta shake this. The last thing I want is to be working in shitty retail until I die. I’ve always thought that writing is to be my salvation from a mundane life…if I can ever finish a fucking book. Ugh.