Cuz I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore
Today, just now practically, the idea for the novel that I talked about awhile ago whacked me in the stomach like a bag of bricks. I feel physically ill and overwhelmed. Can I explain this feeling, and why I'm feeling it? No, not exactly, because I never actually felt this way before.
I think I am terrified to attempt to write this book. I'm scared that I won't do this justice, that I won't be able to finish this, that I won't express everything I want to express and I fear that maybe this idea, this world I want to create, will not appeal to anyone but me, or maybe not even me. This will require a lot of digging up of some old, bad stuff, and it will require lots of research-- the cold, clinical kind of research that I thought I left behind in college. It won't be a happy fun place to be in. I have never followed through with anything, and if I abandoned this it would be a waste, such a pitiful waste. Or would it? Maybe I'd be doing myself a favor if I just dropped this idea.
How can I go from a bourgeois marketing coordinator, a paycheck-to-paycheck hamster wheel runner, to something resembling an artist, who writes what he feels? It would be like learning Latin overnight. I left my artistic pretensions behind a long time ago, it seemed the stuff of silly hipsters and all around youthful folly. How can I get myself to take that seriously again?
Things seem to be happening so quickly. My 28th birthday is Friday. My father's birthday is two days later. My Big Move will be some undetermined time late in the month, right around the same time as this horrid wedding I have to be in.
The London news developments make me wanna cry.
The wagons are circling. It's gonna be one of those days.