I love that cheesy song. Anywho, we built this JournaBlog, and we’re 67 posts away from 100. Woo and Hoo. I’ve been remiss in writing, says the broken record (me), but what’s new? I’m a busy girl. A good friend recently told me to pick up my pen and take to writing, which I seem to be constantly unable to do. I think the problem might be the enormous expectations I set for myself. I keep thinking that I should be writing better, doing better, inventing far more creative sentences and prose than the drivel that seems to come out. And, although yes, I should be better and aiming higher, a cigar is just a cigar, you know? I need to stop the overanalyzing and just get to writing. Like John Mayer said in Heavier Things, numb is the new deep.
In all honesty, I’ve never truly accepted what kind of a writer I am. From the very beginning, it’s been “you’re mediocre; be smarter and better; this is ridiculous.” Of course, every writer is his/her own critic, but I don’t know if I’ve been at the place where I’ve accepted who I am in the WriterVerse. (What I choose to write, as in plot and ideas, is an entirely separate thing). I feel that my writing should be far more intelligent, more creative, more and more and more. Which is why I’m still at Step 1. Which is why I need to forget all the stumbling blocks I give myself and just write.