This week I have worked. I can be honest, however, and say that I could easily have worked harder and accomplished more. I have a short story to try and write, a prompt to work on and my attempted serial is just getting to the good parts. Sadly none of these will write themselves.
I’ve also got a plan and a good start to finally rewriting the manuscript that’s been haunting me for the last couple of years…but I’ve not touched it.
I’m a really really bad procrastinator. I put things off. I’ll do it later. In fact, I was going to post this on Monday but…
I’ve come to realize that it all comes down to fear. Until this week, I never realized how fearful I was about failure. I suspected it, but I never really took a good long look inside to see the extent. I do fear failure. I fear sucking. I fear not being able to accomplish what I want to accomplish.
If I don’t rewrite my novel, if I don’t try to polish it up, it will remain the story “that could have been great” rather become the story “that sucked so bad I had to stop sending it out”.
You can’t fail, if you don’t try.
Unless you redefine the terms.
I’ve been kicking all these thoughts in my head and fighting that negative voice that I’m sure all writers have. A very good friend of mine calls it “her inner shithead” The inner shithead was strong this week. It was strongest yesterday, and it stopped me from getting things done.
Yesterday, the shithead won. It won’t today.
I’m redefining the terms.
I’m trying to be a writer, so words should work for me.
Failure becomes not trying. Nothing else matters.
As far as the novel? I’m working to let it go. I love the story and have had great feedback on it, but it’s not the only story inside me. If that one doesn’t work, I’ll use it to learn and make the next one better. I’ll collect my rejection slips (and frame the first one) and move on until such time as my skill will allow me to make it work.
Is this a good way to go? We’ll see.
The shithead will not win today.