That’s all the time I’m allowing myself to write this blog. Aaaand, my OCD just kicked in. There will be no note consultations, no pre-arranged outlines, no bullet points, no thesaurus checks. Just me, a keyboard, and a kitchen timer. Why am I doing this? Because I spent a lot of time this week coming up with an interesting blog topic, researching the subject, taking notes, and making a general outline of what I wanted to say – the problem is…I can’t say it. It’s as if my brain is so excited over the prospect of writing that it’s tripping over itself to get its thoughts out. “My” thoughts out. I used to be able to knock out essay after essay in high school with ease and enjoyment. What happened? Have my writing muscles atrophied? Is there so much information in my head that when I ask it to form a queue chaos and panic breaks loose?
Ten minutes. Oh boy.
Maybe comics have put some sort of a strong hold on my writing abilities. I’m not used to paragraphs – I’m used to panels. I’m at home with dialogue and brief scene settings. The thought of writing something as arduous as an autobiography puts fear into my heart. How do people write those? Where do you even begin? I tell myself that I excel under pressure, but when it comes to writing this notion of myself often goes out the window. I’m always under the impression that I’ll never get the words out in the exact way I want them, or that someone else has done it better (and faster). Therefore, more often than not, I give up before I’ve started. Is this what all writers suffer? If so, why do it?
Heart racing. Must say something clever, entertaining. This brings to mind a quote that came across that eases my perfectionist nature. It goes something like “If you wait until the perfect time to do something, it’ll never get done.” Amen. I’d look up the reference, but the timer just went off.