(no subject)
Last night I couldn't fall asleep, even though I'd been exhausted all day. I decided to stay up and do my reading assignment for Creative Writing, then ended up getting inspired and writing two very short pieces. When I woke up an hour before my alarm for no apparent reason I went to the computer and wrote some more. Tonight, after Creative Writing class, I wrote a page in longhand. My hand hurt and my brain hurt and I wanted to stop, but I had to complete my thought.
Miss K. is making us keep a writing journal this semester. She says we should get in the habit of writing something every day. I'm already in the habit and have been for some time. The problem is that I am in the habit of writing self-indulgent, weird stuff that no one but me and my friends would like. Part of me says that this is fine, that I like writing and that's a good enough reason to do it. But another part of me - the part that signed up for English 119, I guess - really wants me to share.
I want to write something with substance, something that strangers could respect and enjoy. I know the flaws of my own writing, and lately I've been trying to correct them, but I don't seem to be getting anywhere and it makes me really scared. I don't want to be doomed to mediocrity. I don't want to be trapped in my little mind and limited experience. I don't want to try my hardest at something really important to me and fail.
Sometimes I think I am just too young to write anything good. You're supposed to write what you know, and I don't know anything yet. Sometimes I think I'm not observant enough or too caught up in my own little world. But I keep writing, apparently spurred by some deep faith that if I keep doing it, someday I will have something important to say and I will know the right way to say it.
Miss K. is making us keep a writing journal this semester. She says we should get in the habit of writing something every day. I'm already in the habit and have been for some time. The problem is that I am in the habit of writing self-indulgent, weird stuff that no one but me and my friends would like. Part of me says that this is fine, that I like writing and that's a good enough reason to do it. But another part of me - the part that signed up for English 119, I guess - really wants me to share.
I want to write something with substance, something that strangers could respect and enjoy. I know the flaws of my own writing, and lately I've been trying to correct them, but I don't seem to be getting anywhere and it makes me really scared. I don't want to be doomed to mediocrity. I don't want to be trapped in my little mind and limited experience. I don't want to try my hardest at something really important to me and fail.
Sometimes I think I am just too young to write anything good. You're supposed to write what you know, and I don't know anything yet. Sometimes I think I'm not observant enough or too caught up in my own little world. But I keep writing, apparently spurred by some deep faith that if I keep doing it, someday I will have something important to say and I will know the right way to say it.