So me and writing: a ramble by me

I love writing. I’ve been attempting to tell stories all my life but wanting (needing!) to write doesn’t actually mean I’m any good at it. No please don’t worry, this isn’t one of those self-deprecating posts, it’s just an observation.

Back starting 2015 really I tried to ‘get serious’ about writing. It was a struggle but I was kinda doing it. In retrospect rediscovering fandom May 2016 helped I think because it gave me positive feelings about writing. I was doing writing that I wasn’t super stressed about. Anyway November 2016 life happened and I got overwhelmed and slowly stuttered to a stop.

Ever since in desperation I’ve done a bit here, and a bit there, but always with the litany of negativity. As I wasn’t doing much of any writing I felt all my writing should be original, or on my neglected WIP, as words were obviously at a premium, but the more I berated myself, the less I wrote at all.

aaaaannd then I started a university course English Literature WITH Creative Writing which was not very good timing. Writing was like pulling teeth anyway with the constant “who are you kidding? this is awful!” kind of screaming at the back of my head. Now feedback is good, it’s necessary to improve, so I know there’s a glass half-full way to look at it, but regardless it did feel a bit like a kick in the teeth to come bottom third of my year group.

Which brings me to today. At the start of summer break I set myself writing goals, which I have not even touched as everytime I went to do it (or even thought about doing it) I would cry because I just couldn’t, it was too much.

So what I’m going to do, what I’m going to try and do, is recapture that positivity and learn to love words again. I really fear for myself and my course if I don’t.

No limit writing. Just whatever comes, just do it.

Of course no limit writing has it’s own problems because there is such a thing as too much choice but I’ll have to see how I get on.