I have found over the past couple of weeks I have been coming to this blog to write before I attempt writing any fiction. Why, I am not sure exactly, but maybe it has become a bit of a warm up.
That would be great if it warmed up enough to write something good afterwards.
I am beginning to wonder why I have hit a stretch of not such so good pieces. Not that I produce a lot of remotely decent pieces, but this stretch has felt sluggish, iffy, crappy.
Perhaps it has to do with a slight feeling of pressure from my efforts to make my writing more public. I love to write. The process, the grand challenge, the surprises that appear from the depths of my psyche.
But I feel my ideas, stories, characters are all weak lately. Am I trying too hard? Am I trying to write for someone other than myself?
Ah, yes. And there it is: my old friend Doubt. Kudos for ruffling my feathers while remaining in the shadows, dear Doubt. Tricky bastard.
I need to either find a way to ignore Doubt, or use him to my advantage. How I would do either is unknown, that being if I even could do either.
Man, what a crappy entry. Sorry for wasting your time.
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