I am beginning to think that this is what a Frontal Lobotomy feels like. I can’t concentrate, create or focus on one single thing. I found myself too often today staring off into space without comprehending anything going on around me. And before you say anything, I know that I have a habit of staring off into space, but that is usually when I am writing and poking at a scene and it is for a purpose. But the amount of snot I am hoarding inside my skull right now is making it hard to be articulate. I vowed in the spirit of writing to participate in NaBloPoMo, though, so here I am trying to keep up with my promise.
I think that I am still struggling to find my voice as a writer, even after all these years. It would be much nicer if I could hook my brain straight into the keyboard and then let it flow. I’ve heard others complain about not being able to get the words just right, and I sympathize. I’m right there with them. I can see the scenes so clearly in my mind, feel the emotions the characters are pouring out so clearly in my heart. Translating these things to where others can experience the same is hard. But then again if writing was easy, everyone would do it. Or maybe it isn’t as hard as I am making myself believe.
A lot of it has to do with my hesitancy to put it out there and let it be appreciated (or hated) by the outside world. The outside world is a harsh place and could destroy my fragile ego. I just need to stop striving for perfection and take the dive.
Nothing needs to be perfect, only needs to be.