This is a Pointlessly Nervous Rant.
I have a terrible feeling, and have for the last several days, that I have somehow lost my writing ability. I know I have spent far too much time on the internet as of late and hardly any time at all with my nose in a good book (which I have stacks and stacks of, waiting to be read) or with an actual pen set to a notebook (which I also have stacks and stacks of...I get them as gifts....and they're all so lovely...I feel terrible that I don't use them all the time...). I haven't even been using Microsoft Word as much as in the past, which means that I haven't even been writing fanfiction, which is just plain sad. Usually, even if I've been slacking on my creative writing (which is my major for Gallifrey's sake...), I can give myself a little bit of false comfort by looking at the word count of my latest one-shot. Recently, however, I haven't been able to force myself to write any good Doctor/Rose fluff! I've got no shortage of ideas, there's an extensive "plot bunny" list sitting in a handy virtual post-it note on my desktop...I'm simply having the hardest time forcing myself to write anything at all. This disturbs me.
So today, I decided to finish the Eleven/Romana one-shot that I began three days ago (at two in the morning...last time I had any sort of muse to speak of) and, as you can see in the post previous to this one, I actually did! For a few moments, I was proud of myself for actually finishing something, but that initial catharsis quickly dissolved into anxiety as I read through it. The grammar was fine and the story was complete, but my writing....it just felt....off. I suppose it probably seems fine to other people, but to me it's abnormal and kind of forced. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it's about the Eleventh Doctor and written from the POV of the Ponds, both of which are things I have never attempted before, but I just worry that the difficulty I had in making this story come out the way I wanted it to signals some sort of terrible calamity inside my head. What if I've lost my writing chops for good?!? What if I've fried my brain with memes and fangirling?!? Writing is all I have going for me! What will I do with my life, if not string words together?!?!? Yes. I'm a hypochondriac. I've been being told this since I was about six. (It's been labeled "OCD" and "panic disorder" since then, but it all boils down to the same issues doesn't it? A rose by any other name and such.)
Writing this little rant has actually made me feel a bit better. I think I've composed this rather eloquently, I've used some decent vocabulary, the words have come to me fairly quickly, and my brain seems pleased it's being used. It speaks to the therapeutic role writing serves in my life, if nothing else, and should really be a reminder to me that I only panic about my writing when I haven't been. Yet, it still worries me that I've been having such trouble forcing myself to practice my chosen craft. I need some self-discipline. Desperately.
So today, I decided to finish the Eleven/Romana one-shot that I began three days ago (at two in the morning...last time I had any sort of muse to speak of) and, as you can see in the post previous to this one, I actually did! For a few moments, I was proud of myself for actually finishing something, but that initial catharsis quickly dissolved into anxiety as I read through it. The grammar was fine and the story was complete, but my writing....it just felt....off. I suppose it probably seems fine to other people, but to me it's abnormal and kind of forced. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it's about the Eleventh Doctor and written from the POV of the Ponds, both of which are things I have never attempted before, but I just worry that the difficulty I had in making this story come out the way I wanted it to signals some sort of terrible calamity inside my head. What if I've lost my writing chops for good?!? What if I've fried my brain with memes and fangirling?!? Writing is all I have going for me! What will I do with my life, if not string words together?!?!? Yes. I'm a hypochondriac. I've been being told this since I was about six. (It's been labeled "OCD" and "panic disorder" since then, but it all boils down to the same issues doesn't it? A rose by any other name and such.)
Writing this little rant has actually made me feel a bit better. I think I've composed this rather eloquently, I've used some decent vocabulary, the words have come to me fairly quickly, and my brain seems pleased it's being used. It speaks to the therapeutic role writing serves in my life, if nothing else, and should really be a reminder to me that I only panic about my writing when I haven't been. Yet, it still worries me that I've been having such trouble forcing myself to practice my chosen craft. I need some self-discipline. Desperately.