Doubt.
It's an ugly word. In English as well as in French. Say it out loud. Go ahead. "Doubt." It's a word without any redeeming qualities. It's thick. It falls flat. It doesn't even have a kick to it to make up for the ugliness.
I've been writing for several weeks now, and I haven't even made it to the 5,000 word mark. Worse, the first couple thousand of those sound hollow.
Wentworth says I need to find my "left field". But what if I walk around in circles for months and never find the left field? What if I only have talent enough to write a very-much-middle-of-the-field book? What if I don't even have enough talent to do that? Could this decision that felt like the most liberating, truest decision of my life actually be a colossal mistake? Should I have stuffed my lofty ambitions, stuck to playing around with this blog as a hobby and found myself a nice legal job? "I want to write for a living." What kind of 30-something post-graduate idiot says that? And then follows up with it?
Hopefully this will all feel better again in the morning. Because when it does feel good, it feels amazing. Like being Superman. Only without the unattractive underwear. Maybe all I need is a good night's sleep and I will find my faith (a.k.a. delusion) again. I know I left it around here somewhere.
2 comments:
The best inspiration for writing comes from reading-- preferably something that is wildly successful, but of mediocre literary quality (think Nanny Diaries).
Everyday you need to wake up and convince yourself that you are capable of writing something that is funnier and more intelligent-- which you are.
Good luck!
I suggest you read about Chetan Bhagat on Wikipedia and then read his books.
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