Well. Shit.
Went to K-Mart with my mom to get a few things. Ended up being there for about three hours.
"Stinkfist" was in my head, the background tune to all my thoughts... I'd find myself randomly singing snatches of it. I think I love that song...
Yeah.
I sort of feel like writing something again. Haven't felt like that in a while. But I also feel that nagging; "You can't do it." Keep thinking about the other people around me--they can write. I'm just mechanical. I can correct spelling, grammar...all that nice stuff. And, if I even gave a flying fuck, I could use it, too. But I can't seem to sit down and write something attention-catching and lengthy.
S'just stupid. I used to be so proud of my writing... Fuck. I sat down with these people--professional writers--well into their thirties, forties, fifties, with so much experience on their hands... I was thirteen, with no experience. They tried to send me away; Hell, they didn't expect much out of me. "Um. Well. We have a haiku reading for kids your age tomorrow--would you like to go?" The woman conducting the meeting gave me a pamphlet. And I just kinda shrugged, sat down with them. They stared...waited for me to leave... But I stayed, and gave them a critique. Shocked the fuck out of them. And I became their favorite... Ha. Yeah. Bloody proud.
Then, out of insecurity, I stopped allowing people to read it. I stopped talking about it. I stopped writing at all--in the creative sense. And never bothered with trying again.
I've got...so many projects I started, and then just let go. I have one project I started at twelve. Looking at those archives in my mind, I figure they could use a little revamping. Or a lot.
Hmm. Nolika, the Wylds, Sarmina... Old projects. Really old. Nolika needs the revamping. The Wylds--all they need is a language fix. Sarmina--man, I should just let that one die. Risis... Relatively younger. And stupider. The Jessica Scholar one... It should be burned. Burned, I tell you. What the Hell was I thinking when I started doing that...?
Also have a few stories that are based on nightmares... Particularly recurring ones. Hell, the flooding of the old desert temple, the Gothic thing where I got killed, golden bridges suspended in air, and one involving a one-eyed cat, silver string...
Ah. And the one with the demons. Those demons have been in my nightmares more. The Dark Walkers or whatever. I can't remember exactly what I called them the first time I saw 'em.
Hmm. I have a shitload of ideas, just no writing ability.
Stupid me.
...and I just lost the rest of my Sobe. *Looks down at the ground beside her.*
...damnit.
And now I have to go to the store...again.
"Stinkfist" was in my head, the background tune to all my thoughts... I'd find myself randomly singing snatches of it. I think I love that song...
Yeah.
I sort of feel like writing something again. Haven't felt like that in a while. But I also feel that nagging; "You can't do it." Keep thinking about the other people around me--they can write. I'm just mechanical. I can correct spelling, grammar...all that nice stuff. And, if I even gave a flying fuck, I could use it, too. But I can't seem to sit down and write something attention-catching and lengthy.
S'just stupid. I used to be so proud of my writing... Fuck. I sat down with these people--professional writers--well into their thirties, forties, fifties, with so much experience on their hands... I was thirteen, with no experience. They tried to send me away; Hell, they didn't expect much out of me. "Um. Well. We have a haiku reading for kids your age tomorrow--would you like to go?" The woman conducting the meeting gave me a pamphlet. And I just kinda shrugged, sat down with them. They stared...waited for me to leave... But I stayed, and gave them a critique. Shocked the fuck out of them. And I became their favorite... Ha. Yeah. Bloody proud.
Then, out of insecurity, I stopped allowing people to read it. I stopped talking about it. I stopped writing at all--in the creative sense. And never bothered with trying again.
I've got...so many projects I started, and then just let go. I have one project I started at twelve. Looking at those archives in my mind, I figure they could use a little revamping. Or a lot.
Hmm. Nolika, the Wylds, Sarmina... Old projects. Really old. Nolika needs the revamping. The Wylds--all they need is a language fix. Sarmina--man, I should just let that one die. Risis... Relatively younger. And stupider. The Jessica Scholar one... It should be burned. Burned, I tell you. What the Hell was I thinking when I started doing that...?
Also have a few stories that are based on nightmares... Particularly recurring ones. Hell, the flooding of the old desert temple, the Gothic thing where I got killed, golden bridges suspended in air, and one involving a one-eyed cat, silver string...
Ah. And the one with the demons. Those demons have been in my nightmares more. The Dark Walkers or whatever. I can't remember exactly what I called them the first time I saw 'em.
Hmm. I have a shitload of ideas, just no writing ability.
Stupid me.
...and I just lost the rest of my Sobe. *Looks down at the ground beside her.*
...damnit.
And now I have to go to the store...again.