I am in one of this funny places at the moment. The running is non-existent, the writing is going through a massive crisis of confidence and I am in the middle of a job change (possibly).
Everything else is pretty damned fine otherwise.
The job thing is just distracting, a situation somewhat exacerbated by the fact that the HRs of the company I work for and the company I am hoping to be seconded into are still debating the particulars of my package, with no one else (me, managers, directors, whomever) any the wiser about what is happening. Typically HR I guess.
The two other things are what worry me, although the running does to a lesser extent. I know that if I just get out of the house and onto the path and start running that the love and the joy of it will eventually come back.
The writing is something I am really struggling with. Badly. Let me illustrate. Five weeks ago I started Nik Perring‘s well regarded flash fiction writing course. Five weeks later I am still yet to deliver my first assignment to him. The poor man has been most patient with me.
It’s not that I haven’t been writing (although there has been an element of that), it is a lot to do with me writing something, reading it, rewriting it and then doing the digital equivalent of screwing it up and throwing it in the bin. I pretty much am disliking everything I write at the moment.
Somewhere do I go from here? Well, this weekend is a free one. Other than lunch with a friend on Saturday and a night out with EF on Sunday I am free. So for much of Saturday to Monday will be spent writing, getting words down without analysing or worrying about it. I may even get a run in.
The running and the job change I can’t help you with but the writing? Well, I’ve been there and it sounds like you feel under pressure to write something good, rather than just something, and that’s what’s blocking you. As soon as you start thinking ‘this has got to be good’ nothing is good enough – everything you attempt or even think of is crap and it doesn’t matter that ‘writing is rewriting’ because there’s only so much you can do with a pile of shit – you can’t turn shit into gold. Then you start thinking it’s you – you’re crap – you’re a crap writer – you should just give up ’cause what’s the point? All you write is crap, anyway. But the thing is every good writer thinks this from time to time. Orwell thought 1984 was absolute rubbish. Kafka wanted everything he’d ever written burnt. So thinking this way is a good sign. It shows you’re striving for something in your art – not just writing down any old shit like Dan Brown or Stephenie Meyer. And no, your writing isn’t great yet but you already know that – that’s why you’re doing a course – to get better. And if you keep writing and keep trying to get better you will so that one day you will be great. You just won’t know it yourself.
It happens to the best of us dude.
If you can, don’t beat yourself up about it. (And then tell me how you managed it!)