Creatrixsblood's Weblog

Blank pages used to be somewhere I would go to feel free, and leave feeling I had created something worthwhile.  While the latter still holds true, I do not find the same solace on the page.

Since my third year in college, 2006, it has taken me a concerted effort to not pain-stalkingly analyze any and every piece of fiction I am reading or in the process of writing.  As a result, I get a lot more out of what I read, and what I do write is pretty solid;  but I miss the days of devouring books in hours, simply enjoying the ride, as well as being able to sit down and free-write a piece of fiction without caring if it sounded like complete nonsense.

At a very young age, I decided that I wanted to write for a living. While I am doing that in some sense, it is definitely not what I had in mind.   I thought I’d have books in stores by now.  While I do have plans for a novel series, they are no where near ready for prying eyes. I used to think I wanted to be like R.L. Stine or Stephen King…Mainly the having the quality of churning out prolific amounts of good quality writing.  Then I got to college.

I realized Stephen King didn’t think he was a particularly good writer…and honestly, compared to the depth existing in the works of numerous authors across all genres, he really isn’t.  Before studying fiction writing in a formal setting, all I really wanted to do was entertain myself and others while making money in the process.  Afterwards, I decided that rather than light amusement,what I really wanted to write was entertaining fiction loaded with meaningful messages, prompting the reader to reflect.

Suddenly, writing became much harder.  And not as much fun. I didn’t want my writing to stay like it was.  I wanted it to be more…better…

It is never good enough; the want for perfection is crippling, both for my writing and my soul.