Reflexiones de una escritora sin camino/Reflections of a writer on the road to nowhere
Como habéis visto, he comenzado a escribir de nuevo, para el reto de 12_daysofficmas. Sin embargo, no estoy para nada satisfecha de lo que está saliendo. Por un lado no me extraña, ya que llevo más tiempo inactiva que escribiendo en los últimos dos años. Sin embargo, no esperaba que mi habilidad hubiera mermado tanto. Siento como si todo lo que había ganado con la experiencia, con las lecturas sobre estilística y el ejercicio de mi imaginación gracias a los fandoms, se hubiera perdido. Parece que estoy en mis primeros inicios. Ahora, releo historias que escribí hace 6, 5, 2 años, y apenas creo que yo fuera capaz de pensar todo ello, que esas imágenes y diálogos salieran tan claramente de mi mente, y que mis dedos hilvanaran todas esas descripciones detalladas de lugares, situaciones y sentimientos.
Personalmente, siento como si aquello fuera una cumbre que conquisté en su tiempo, y que ahora me he dado de bruces contra el suelo. Quiero volver a subir, pero miro la pared y la veo imposible de escalar. Y me desanimo.
Veo imágenes en mi cabeza, los personajes se mueven y hablan, pero no soy capaz de volcar todo eso en el papel. Y me frustro.
A veces pienso que me da igual si no vuelvo a escribir otra historia, noto que ya no me motiva como antes, que los fandoms no me llaman y que mis OTPs se han quedado paradas en el tiempo, y total, estoy cansada y apenas tengo tiempo - el poco que me queda libre lo dedico a descansar la mente, porque a veces la rutina y el estrés pueden conmigo. Sin embargo, una parte de mí se resiste a cerrar la puerta de esa habitación donde he pasado momentos tan emocionantes y felices. Recuerdo lo bien que me sentía, lo que añoro ese sentimiento y lo que daría por volver de nuevo a notar ese hormigueo en la punta de los dedos y esa emoción en el corazón.
En fin... Veremos qué pasa.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
As you've seen, I've started to write again, for the 12_daysofficmas challenge. However, I'm not satisfied with the results. On one hand, it's not weird, since I've been more time not writing than doing it in the past two years. But I didn't expect that my skill has diminished so much. I feel as if everything I had gained with the experience, with the readings about stylistics and my working imagination thanks to the fandoms, is lost. It seems like I'm at the beginning of the road again. Now, I re-read stories that I wrote 6, 5, 2 years ago, and I can't believe I was able to think all that, that all the images and dialogues came out of my mind so clearly, and that my fingers typed all those detailed descriptions of places, situations and feelings.
Personally, I feel as if all that was a height that I stepped on at that moment, and now, I've fell flat on my face on the slope of that mountain. I want to go up again, but I look at the hillside and I see it impossible to climb. And I feel down.
I see images in my head, the characters move and speak, but I'm not able to write all that down. And I feel frustrated.
Sometimes, I think I don't care if I don't write a story again, I feel that I'm not as motivated as before, that the fandoms don't attract my attention anymore and that my OTPs have stilled in time, and, anyway, I'm tired and I barely have free time - the little free time I have, I devote it to rest my mind, because I can't cope with the routine and the stress-. However, a part of me is reluctant to close the door of that room where I've spent so many happy and exciting moments. I remember how good I felt, how much I yearn for that feeling and what I'd give to feel that tingling in my fingertips and that excitement in my heart again.
Well... Let's see what happens.
Personalmente, siento como si aquello fuera una cumbre que conquisté en su tiempo, y que ahora me he dado de bruces contra el suelo. Quiero volver a subir, pero miro la pared y la veo imposible de escalar. Y me desanimo.
Veo imágenes en mi cabeza, los personajes se mueven y hablan, pero no soy capaz de volcar todo eso en el papel. Y me frustro.
A veces pienso que me da igual si no vuelvo a escribir otra historia, noto que ya no me motiva como antes, que los fandoms no me llaman y que mis OTPs se han quedado paradas en el tiempo, y total, estoy cansada y apenas tengo tiempo - el poco que me queda libre lo dedico a descansar la mente, porque a veces la rutina y el estrés pueden conmigo. Sin embargo, una parte de mí se resiste a cerrar la puerta de esa habitación donde he pasado momentos tan emocionantes y felices. Recuerdo lo bien que me sentía, lo que añoro ese sentimiento y lo que daría por volver de nuevo a notar ese hormigueo en la punta de los dedos y esa emoción en el corazón.
En fin... Veremos qué pasa.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
As you've seen, I've started to write again, for the 12_daysofficmas challenge. However, I'm not satisfied with the results. On one hand, it's not weird, since I've been more time not writing than doing it in the past two years. But I didn't expect that my skill has diminished so much. I feel as if everything I had gained with the experience, with the readings about stylistics and my working imagination thanks to the fandoms, is lost. It seems like I'm at the beginning of the road again. Now, I re-read stories that I wrote 6, 5, 2 years ago, and I can't believe I was able to think all that, that all the images and dialogues came out of my mind so clearly, and that my fingers typed all those detailed descriptions of places, situations and feelings.
Personally, I feel as if all that was a height that I stepped on at that moment, and now, I've fell flat on my face on the slope of that mountain. I want to go up again, but I look at the hillside and I see it impossible to climb. And I feel down.
I see images in my head, the characters move and speak, but I'm not able to write all that down. And I feel frustrated.
Sometimes, I think I don't care if I don't write a story again, I feel that I'm not as motivated as before, that the fandoms don't attract my attention anymore and that my OTPs have stilled in time, and, anyway, I'm tired and I barely have free time - the little free time I have, I devote it to rest my mind, because I can't cope with the routine and the stress-. However, a part of me is reluctant to close the door of that room where I've spent so many happy and exciting moments. I remember how good I felt, how much I yearn for that feeling and what I'd give to feel that tingling in my fingertips and that excitement in my heart again.
Well... Let's see what happens.