Thursday, April 29, 2010

Defeated

I think I'm kidding myself with this whole being-a-writer thing. I can't finish anything I start and the things I do manage to slap onto paper are poorly thought out, dull pieces of nothing. Fluff, emptiness, wispy drips of inadequately contrived prose that doesn't mean anything to anyone- including myself. I have no patience, no follow through, no business even trying to make something out of this hobby. So I have a penchant for vocabulary and a way of fitting words together to sound pretty... this does me little good with actually creating interesting characters or a discernible plot line, creating or developing a world that anyone might take interest in. Who the hell cares if I can make some fancy words link together nicely if I haven't got the imagination to say anything that really matters? I can't, just can't seem to find anything to write about that isn't some ridiculous amalgam of my own life with some details changed. I don't want to put me down on paper. I can't write about myself all my life- I'm not that interesting to begin with.

I feel like such a failure.

2 comments:

  1. you are not a failure. so shut up and don't be hard on yourself. i care. your write brilliant stuff. pray about it?

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  2. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. And with that statement you just proved yourself to be a true writer. Everyone feels that way, love. Go pick up something by Julia Cameron (I'd recommend both The Way of the Artist and Vein of Gold), she'll therapize you back into your art. Art is hard. Be of good cheer. Love, Shay

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