(no subject)
I love it when Facebook randomly insults me!
I wonder if they're right, though. Not that I'm dumb per se, but not living up to my full potential. Tonight I was editing a short story written by a friend as a favor to her, and the thought occurred to me that I really am good at editing. I honestly believe that if I were able to forge myself a career as a book editor (which is what I think I want), I'd be really successful at it. Not only do I have a fantastic eye for grammar, spelling and syntax, but I also offer people good advice on how to improve their writing. I notice when a story needs more description, character development, etc., and I'm also really good at seeing a story's good points too. I'm not trying to toot my own horn or sound arrogant; I'm just honestly confident in my abilities in this area.
The problem is I'm a lot less confident these days in my own writing. I wonder if the phrase "those who can't do, teach" applies in my case -- that I'd be a really good editor but I could never write a very good book of my own. I would hate for that to happen. I'd almost rather not be a successful editor at all if I can't be a successful writer, too. (The John Keats quote in my icon really strikes a chord for me.)
I'm also rather frustrated these days because I feel like I never get anything done, writing or otherwise. I've gotten into this habit of just plopping down in my armchair in the living room after work, and just watching TV/movies and mindlessly playing around on the interwebs all night until it's time to go to bed. (I swear, one of these days my ass is going to become one with the couch.) If I do anything productive, it's usually something like laundry or dishes. Of course, one of the main reasons for this is that I just don't have a lot of energy after work; if I wasn't so tired, I might get a lot more done. But still. I feel like I'm becoming, at best, a couch potato, and at worst a loser who's not doing anything with her life -- the exact kind of person I hoped I'd never be. (A horrible comparison to my disgustingly lazy ex-boyfriend comes to mind. But then again, at least I have -- and can keep -- a job.)
The funny thing is that my standards for what is productive isn't even terribly high. Right now, all I want to do is clean my bedroom, work on my novel a little bit, light some of my new orange blossom scented incense and do some readings with my new tarot decks. But I haven't even done any of those things this week.
I know I'm the only one who can pull myself out of this. I just hope that I figure out how before I grow even more disappointed with myself.
I wonder if they're right, though. Not that I'm dumb per se, but not living up to my full potential. Tonight I was editing a short story written by a friend as a favor to her, and the thought occurred to me that I really am good at editing. I honestly believe that if I were able to forge myself a career as a book editor (which is what I think I want), I'd be really successful at it. Not only do I have a fantastic eye for grammar, spelling and syntax, but I also offer people good advice on how to improve their writing. I notice when a story needs more description, character development, etc., and I'm also really good at seeing a story's good points too. I'm not trying to toot my own horn or sound arrogant; I'm just honestly confident in my abilities in this area.
The problem is I'm a lot less confident these days in my own writing. I wonder if the phrase "those who can't do, teach" applies in my case -- that I'd be a really good editor but I could never write a very good book of my own. I would hate for that to happen. I'd almost rather not be a successful editor at all if I can't be a successful writer, too. (The John Keats quote in my icon really strikes a chord for me.)
I'm also rather frustrated these days because I feel like I never get anything done, writing or otherwise. I've gotten into this habit of just plopping down in my armchair in the living room after work, and just watching TV/movies and mindlessly playing around on the interwebs all night until it's time to go to bed. (I swear, one of these days my ass is going to become one with the couch.) If I do anything productive, it's usually something like laundry or dishes. Of course, one of the main reasons for this is that I just don't have a lot of energy after work; if I wasn't so tired, I might get a lot more done. But still. I feel like I'm becoming, at best, a couch potato, and at worst a loser who's not doing anything with her life -- the exact kind of person I hoped I'd never be. (A horrible comparison to my disgustingly lazy ex-boyfriend comes to mind. But then again, at least I have -- and can keep -- a job.)
The funny thing is that my standards for what is productive isn't even terribly high. Right now, all I want to do is clean my bedroom, work on my novel a little bit, light some of my new orange blossom scented incense and do some readings with my new tarot decks. But I haven't even done any of those things this week.
I know I'm the only one who can pull myself out of this. I just hope that I figure out how before I grow even more disappointed with myself.