Tuesday, August 17, 2010

A Fake

Sometimes, I think I'm not a real writer. I'm not like the other writers I know, who can scribble down magic in a second.

I'm slow. I can't just start writing anything. I spend minutes and minutes just staring, trying to figure out some idea. And once I start, I cross out more things than I keep. Sometimes, even with all that, my writing still turns out to be complete shit, and I can never show it to anyone.

When I write short stories, I don't know everything I should know about the characters, or even the plots. I almost never even know how I'm going to end them until I do. Or, usually, they just never get endings. They just languish wherever.

Whenever I read a book, I think about how I could never write anything so fantastic, or so big. I wouldn't even know how. The biggest thing I've ever written was about thirty pages, and that was totally an anomaly. Usually, I don't make it past eight.

Even when I think my writing might be good, I never know for sure. People might complement it, but even then I never know whether they're being serious or not. Because what else are they going to say? You could be the worst writer on the planet, and your friends aren't going to say anything.

I know that all writers have these thoughts, or ones like them, and that a lot of the times, they're unfounded. But, what if I'm that one writer who really just can't do it?

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