I think I'm scared or confused or bored but also freakin' frustrated - I just can't commit to anything. All my thoughts seem silly, ugly. There's some thing like pressure that comes from inside of myself, and it blocks me from trying.
Writers circle submission is due by the end of the month. I have four days. In four days time I may have nothing except a pissy semi-retired writing enthusiast named 'Patricia' on my ass sending me hate emails.
At writers' club recently, my in-session exercise was 'nominated' to be published in the local paper. I'm not sure why the other attendees pushed me to say yes... in fact, I don't think I did actually say the word. We begun by using a broken sentence from a book to make our own series of sentences - mine morphed into some odd, lazy tale about a feather floating above water.
I felt sick at the idea of my name being in the paper, associated with a less-than-perfect writing piece. "Have a play" they said. Can I play with it so much it becomes something else entirely? They wouldn't take "no" for an answer. "You must tell that inner critic to GO AWAY!" one lady with wild curly platinum grey hair yelled at me. All I could think was if I had grey hair someday, that I hoped it would look a lot like hers.
So, I've let the idea sit with me awhile, and given that there's no real way to weasel out - I had a reshuffle of words. Still simple and strange, I figure my name isn't so unique that people would definitely know it was me. And just before preparing to send it off, I find a lovely quote with a timely message, and then I thought, maybe it was time to throw myself in.
