I’m going to take this opportunity to officially admit that I am writing…something. I’m not quite sure what it is yet *lifts damp/limp something to examine more closely.* But it’s there. I’ve written a vague and flexible (ever changing) outline of what I might want, and about 1,500 words. I’ve even reluctantly shared information with two people. Yes, I have done this before. But this time I’m going to keep pushing (at least will try to) until my something either becomes a formed, breathing object; or disintegrates into shiny dust like a freshly slayed vampire.
I’m going to be frighteningly honest here. There were many reasons why I switched from music to English as a major my freshman year in college. One of the big reasons, however, was because I was terrified that I would not be allowed into (that I was not good enough to be in...) the Piano Performance Program. Failing in general, for me, ranks with losing all my teeth in a freak hockey accident (seeing as I haven’t stepped on the ice since a certain skate-meets-hand incident my first time EVER) in pleasantness. Being told that I am not good enough at something I love: my mind can’t even comprehend the pain this would cause. I imagine the world would implode, sinking me into a hell full of open water, spiders, sea monsters, and electrocution (On a temporary psychological tangent…maybe this is why I have such a hard time with breakups…and personal criticism….and, okay we’re done now).
So, as you can see, admitting that I’m writing…something, is a huge step for me. Because, if I fail, not only would I know (and have to admit to it); but at least one of my 12 (welcome latest follower person!) followers may also take notice.
Maybe next time I’ll even reveal the genre!