Here’s the situation: I had 742 words written on Love/Hate. As I began to transfer it to this blog to actually get ready to post it, I started to doubt myself and everything I had written and now here I am writing something completely new. Not to mention my internet connection, quite frankly, is mocking me. I actually I think I may be half asleep at the moment, so who knows what we’ll end up with when we’re done here.
I have a love/hate relationship with writing. I’m not just talking specifically about this one blog post, I’m talking about every time I have to do any kind of exercise like this.
I start off excited and enthusiastic, my brain whirring with bits and pieces of ideas that sometimes have actual potential. I’m convinced that I am about to write the greatest piece of literature ever to grace the planet and that there’s no possible way I’ll ever get all these unbelievable concepts onto page, but I’ll certainly be able to make a valiant effort.
Then it comes to actually sitting down and attempting to form a plan. Sometimes this goes quite well and a decent structure ends up being produced, other times this is where it all goes downhill. I either get too overwhelmed by the vastness of what it is I’m trying to get across, or draw a blank and forget the meaning of the word ‘imagination’.
At this point I reach the stage that I’m stuck in right now: doubt. Wait, what am I trying to say? What was the question? Is that last sentence even relevant to anything? Did I just trail off for two pages about nothing? Is English even my first language?
I love to write. I really do. I love taking small sections of huge ideas that I have about the world and molding them into something I can share with others. I get a rush from forming that one perfect sentence that completely captures what I’m trying to say, that one word that perfectly envelopes my point.
Having said that, I hate the feeling of self-consciousness and inadequacy that floods over me every single time I try to write. I can’t seem to shake that voice that’s telling me to delete the whole thing, that someone else’s will always be better, that I should just give up trying and go learn off the terms of the Industrial Relations Act 1990 for Business instead, because at least I can’t mess that up too dramatically.
But I don’t want to do that. I’m going to post this anyway, even though it’s nowhere near what I wanted it to be and I’ll be cringing at it tomorrow, and probably all the days that follow. I have to keep trying and I have to write cringe-inducing blog posts in a dazed state at 11:30 on a Monday night, because how else will I learn? I want improve, and tilt my love/hate relationship with writing further towards the love side as I do so.
Hey, at least I tried. I promise I’ll do better next time. Here’s to the next two years of improving.