Let's get it together, one stop at a time.
It’s been so long since I’ve sat down and put my thoughts together in a way coherent to other humans that I’m afraid I won’t be very good at it. I worry that I won’t be very good at writing ever. That is probably why I don’t do it on a regular basis.
I’ve wanted to be a professional writer since I was 7 years old. I stayed after class on the last day of school to help Mrs. Gregory clean up her classroom, because that is what emotionally needy little outcasts do. They become friends with all of their teachers because they’re too smart, fat, poor, or any other adjective to be considered cool by a majority of tiny kids who know nothing. I came across a treasure trove of construction paper scraps and was immediately enamored with a bunch of 4” x 4” squares. I decided I would make them into a little book, and I did. I called it “The Mouse in Jail,” and it was brilliant.
See, that is how the old me operated. I made a decision and I followed through with it. This was years before my grandmother ever warned me that I’d have to be “really good” in order to make it as a writer, and before the teasing at school made me believe I was actually worth less than other kids. Then, I completed tasks. Now, I “work on” projects. I’m “working on” establishing a good exercise routine. I’m “working on” staying in touch with my family more. I’m “working on” several blogs, book reviews, abstracts, and novels. What I really need to do is work out, call my Mama, and keep writing until paragraphs are formed and a piece is done. I’m kind of over this “working on” phase, because all it has done is left me exhausted and defeated with very few accomplishments to show for it. Procrastination is actually very draining, when you think about it. The wasted time, disappointment in failing, and little bit of work done is far less satisfying than putting your back into it and reaching the mountaintop. I hope I and the two other people reading this keep that in mind the next time a scary goal is staring at us and we quickly busy ourselves with some irrelevant nonsense like grouping animated candies or watching a televised fight between victims of excessive plastic surgery. Push through the fear. Force yourself to finish.
There. I completed a blog post. Take that, self-doubt.