the writer in (fetal, panicked, existential) repose
Now that I have that post out of my system, I'm increasingly feeling a sense that I'm spending too much time in fan-related things.
Man, would that I could be a professional fan, like Forrest J. Ackerman or somebody! Or hell, I wish I could be the Roger Ebert of comics, but for whatever reason, this industry and its fans scorn actual criticism. It's either "this is awesome!" or "this sucks!" with no thought in between.
As it is, I worry that I'm wasting time and energy on trivia, even if it's trivia about which I'm incredibly passionate. I love this shit. Love, love, love it, and I want others to love it too. But am I wasting my time celebrating the works of others rather than creating my own? My brother would say yes, he always has, but he's never been a fan of anything.
I suppose this could just be signs that I'm finally getting ready for Fringe season. After all, during my most stressed and exhausted times, all I wanted to do was talk about comic stuff. Makes sense I'd throw myself into it utterly in my downtime.
But I have other things I should be writing. Original works, things that might actually get published. I'm finally ready to get back to work on Johnny Go--for those of you who still remember Johnny Go--but the project still intimidates me. I don't want to force myself, because that does no good, but I can't just sit and wait to feel like writing, because professional writers all seem to say that doesn't work either.
The writer's block has been stronger than ever lately. I never used to get it! I always had something to write! It's still the case, but most of those "somethings" aren't something that I can publish. At least, not unless DC would let me. Man, I wish DC would let me.
I just keep reminding myself that I'm young, that most writers don't really write their great stuff until they're forty, at least. But the only times I ever feel like I'm expressing myself anymore is when I write about films or comics. I want to create, but too often, I've found myself able to only write a paragraph or two before I collapse into a shivering, screaming ball of neuroses. It's the classic "I suck, everything I do sucks, I have no real life experience compared to (fill in name of somebody I know), I have no imagination, no one cares, I should just die!" thing that I think most artists go through.
Even writing this here feels like a waste of time. Like procrastination. Like wankery. It's one reason why I've been so absent from LJ (that and real life in general). Maybe I should be channeling this energy into art, or maybe I need to drain the wound here so I can move on.
Either way, I'm sure one or two of you have insights into this, and ways you've gotten through 'em. Feel free to pass them along. Or not. I know, intellectually, that this too shall pass, and the drought will end, and that I will someday write again. Hell, I know I'm capable of it. I've written three full-length novels. I have to remember that. I just need to work through whatever's gumming up the works so I can get onto the fourth one, which will hopefully be the one I can actually publish.
So... how do I feel now? Cleansed? Dirty? Exhausted? Energized? Right now, I kinda just want a taco. That much, I know I can handle.