Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Write. Right?

My Wednesdays are supposed to be devoted to writing. Or at least reading well in an attempt to improve my writing. But every Wednesday since Christmas I have found it imperative that I wash windows or strip all the beds in the house, go on trips with my eleven year old or even tackle a huge pile of ironing. Why?

I'll tell me why. I'm afraid. No matter how many people tell me my work is good or even 'no worse than a lot I've read' - I kid you not! I veer dramatically from thinking I might have some talent to wanting to shred everything I've ever written. And all that in the space of an hour. Imagine the swings in a week, month, year. To make it worse I don't know which I'm more afraid of. The work being ok or the work being crap. I also don't know if I will ever ever believe any compliment about the work - I always find some reason why somebody might be kind to me.

It can be very tiring - all this self-doubt. Even more tiring than actually writing. Which is why I'm making this a very short post and going off to indulge in a little snooze and some more contemplation of whether I should write more or not. Ah - procrastination - some people call it life!

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