Fairly large rant ahead... be warned. =/
I'm frustrated with everything I've been writing lately. I haven't shown people snippits because they're from random points along Razorblade, and I feel like they won't understand the context. I don't feel like I have anyone to talk to it about, and I am afraid of putting myself out there for people. It's a commitment to people, and I tend to fail at commitments like that. I dislike talking about my work as well, because I know I come off as sounding too young/excitable, and often times find what I'm saying is stupid and doesn't make sense. I have all this pent up creative frustration, but either no or too weak ideas to channel them through. It makes me wish I could paint or sing or anything that doesn't require me to look at words and make me hate them.
You know who the person I wish could help me with all this is, and if you knew him better you would know why I am not able to go to him on this. It's not in him, and he knows it. Moreso than that, he doesn't balance compliments with criticism well. Last time I brought it all up to him I just about gave up on writing all together, which is incredibly weak of me, but I need some kind of balance. I need to know not all of this is pointless. I need help to understand what my strengths are as well as my weaknesses, because at this point it all seems weak. Where has my ability gone? I find it so hard to comprehend that I was a better writer at 11 years old than I am today.
The worst part of it, I think, is that when I try to come up with what I write best, I find myself leading back to sex. I'm still a virgin, and I'm most comfortable and find it easiest and most rich when I'm writing a sex scene. My words flow better in that type of scene, and I can't seem to figure out how to translate that sort of ease and mindset over to everything else. I don't want to be stuck writing PWPs for the rest of my life. That isn't me. I want to tell a story. I want to involve people. But I have no story to tell, and no place to draw one from.
I partially blame roleplaying. I thought it would make me a better writer, enhance my senses by singling out mindless details and getting down to what really mattered, but it did the opposite. It dulled them down, made me lazy. With roleplaying it was easier. I no longer had to worry about where my character was, or how that environment effected them. All I had to worry about was my character and what they were going to say in response to a thing I did not have to create. And I lied to him, telling him I wasn't doing it anymore. The other part of the blame goes to myself, not only for lying but for letting myself slip and become so lazy. I blame myself for stopping writing, and letting myself take the easier path. For placing myself in a less-rich environment, and refusing to branch out because it was easier not to.
I have to find a better life than this. Writing what I know, being a teenager in a small town, it seems trite. It seems ameteur. I'm asking too much of myself, but if I had kept writing through highschool then I would have been at a better level. Now that I want to pick it back up, I need to put myself back at the level I was when I left middleschool for the big bad world of highschool, and I don't want to do that. I'd earned the right to move on from that point and I let it slip out of my fingers. I fucking hate myself for that. I need to relearn, and I don't understand why I can't bring myself to suck it up and just do it.
I want someone to care and I need help. I'm realizing now that there are a lot of things I need to change about myself to get myself back to a point where creativity can flow. I pushed it away for practicality. What kind of fool am I? I have to push myself. I have to make myself realize that coasting through life is not a life at all.
I want to get back to the point where I was before. But wishing and having the drive to do so are two different things, and I don't know what to do to fix it. I'm just lost on it.
And I don't fucking care if I'm being emo. I'm not fucking you, Matt. I need to stand up to you and let myself have these emotions. If I don't it's going to drive me insane.
You know who the person I wish could help me with all this is, and if you knew him better you would know why I am not able to go to him on this. It's not in him, and he knows it. Moreso than that, he doesn't balance compliments with criticism well. Last time I brought it all up to him I just about gave up on writing all together, which is incredibly weak of me, but I need some kind of balance. I need to know not all of this is pointless. I need help to understand what my strengths are as well as my weaknesses, because at this point it all seems weak. Where has my ability gone? I find it so hard to comprehend that I was a better writer at 11 years old than I am today.
The worst part of it, I think, is that when I try to come up with what I write best, I find myself leading back to sex. I'm still a virgin, and I'm most comfortable and find it easiest and most rich when I'm writing a sex scene. My words flow better in that type of scene, and I can't seem to figure out how to translate that sort of ease and mindset over to everything else. I don't want to be stuck writing PWPs for the rest of my life. That isn't me. I want to tell a story. I want to involve people. But I have no story to tell, and no place to draw one from.
I partially blame roleplaying. I thought it would make me a better writer, enhance my senses by singling out mindless details and getting down to what really mattered, but it did the opposite. It dulled them down, made me lazy. With roleplaying it was easier. I no longer had to worry about where my character was, or how that environment effected them. All I had to worry about was my character and what they were going to say in response to a thing I did not have to create. And I lied to him, telling him I wasn't doing it anymore. The other part of the blame goes to myself, not only for lying but for letting myself slip and become so lazy. I blame myself for stopping writing, and letting myself take the easier path. For placing myself in a less-rich environment, and refusing to branch out because it was easier not to.
I have to find a better life than this. Writing what I know, being a teenager in a small town, it seems trite. It seems ameteur. I'm asking too much of myself, but if I had kept writing through highschool then I would have been at a better level. Now that I want to pick it back up, I need to put myself back at the level I was when I left middleschool for the big bad world of highschool, and I don't want to do that. I'd earned the right to move on from that point and I let it slip out of my fingers. I fucking hate myself for that. I need to relearn, and I don't understand why I can't bring myself to suck it up and just do it.
I want someone to care and I need help. I'm realizing now that there are a lot of things I need to change about myself to get myself back to a point where creativity can flow. I pushed it away for practicality. What kind of fool am I? I have to push myself. I have to make myself realize that coasting through life is not a life at all.
I want to get back to the point where I was before. But wishing and having the drive to do so are two different things, and I don't know what to do to fix it. I'm just lost on it.
And I don't fucking care if I'm being emo. I'm not fucking you, Matt. I need to stand up to you and let myself have these emotions. If I don't it's going to drive me insane.