My dears, I’ve been doing it again, that thing where I don’t write at all because I’m so incredibly tired all the time, and it’s all very well and good to get enough sleep for once but it certainly messes up my feelings of self-satisfaction and success.
It’s really frustrating me that I can’t write like Terry Pratchett because, um, wow his books are AMAZING and I love them. And it’s not like I’ve actually even tried to write a single word of fiction in like, a whole fortnight – does that mean I’m not a serious writer? I can’t tell. I had ideas and thoughts and stories and words running through my head the whole time like usual, I just never sat down sometime and let them run out.
You know, I was going to write ‘pour onto the page’ but it occurred to me that they don’t, really. I mean, sometimes, yes, the right words flow and it’s all lovely and easy but there’s a lot of hard ugh-just-write-it-already kind of work in between. Maybe because I’m not a great writer, or maybe that’s normal. I don’t know. I don’t know these things, remember? I’m only 15.
Because in case you couldn’t tell, I did it again, that thing where I hate on myself for not having really written yet? But I’m only 15? And yes yes yes I know talent should probably be showing itself early and all that, but hey, I’ve been attempting to write epic sagas since I was about 10 years old, so surely that counts for something, and I’ve been, like, learning things and stuff. You know, like students are supposed to. Or so I hear.
Wow, I just really cannot get over the sneaky realism of Pratchett’s writing – that’s what makes it so fantastic, isn’t it? It’s really hard to do, by the way. To just sit down and say “I will write a witty insight on society and weave it carefully within the fabric of a fictional tale.”
And I can’t do it, because it’s hard, and I get angry at myself because of that, and NO, that’s not right, I shouldn’t be getting angry, that’s dumb. I should go learn French and chemistry and be happy enough with that, because let’s face it, most other teenagers aren’t doing any more than their homework and whatever they feel like – reading, watching TV, playing video games. So me reading all day is good. Or me talking with my family. Or watching French TV.
I need to learn to calm down and RELAX about being lazy again. I was so good at this last year, how have I managed to forget? I was the Queen of justifying doing absolutely nothing all day but idly pleasing myself. And the years before that – countless books read, countless hours spent on Neopets and Runescape and even Egg Cave. But this year? 2013, aka the year I can’t relax and do nothing without hating myself for it? How dumb is that? Very dumb, in case you needed to be told. I should hope not. Anyway. I really must stop letting dumb things like that get to me.
OK, so I wrote a nice blog post today. Does that count as fulfilling my quota of writing for the day, or do I have to include fictional, or do I have to work through the backlog of you’ve-not-written-anything-since-last-weekend guilt? I did write long emails though guys. That counts for something, right? It totally should. Someone, quick, go explore the benefits of letter-writing vs. fiction vs. blogging. It would be much appreciated if the results were to show something along the lines of ‘why yes indeed, writing letters totally exercises the parts of your brain wired for blogging and novel-writing, and improves your ability in those areas, way to go’.
If this is impossible (due to, y’know, it not being true or whatever) then, I don’t know, just hug me lots and tell me I’m pretty and that yes, of course I’m a good writer, not to worry, every word I type is a masterpiece in itself…
(Hey. Hyperbole is appreciated, is all I’m saying. Just so long as it’s hyperbole that emphasizes my good qualities, few though they may be.)