It’s me, Bev. You know- the crazy writer who runs this thing. It feels odd, even now, referring to myself as a writer. But the blog and the NaNoWriMos and the new twitter account and the constant thought that “I should be writing right now” must be symptoms of the disorder, right? Might as well refer to myself as a member of the club.
First off, to those of you who have read something- anything- posted so far this year: thank you! Your comments have been read and appreciated more than any sane person could possibly appreciate them. (I am not saddled with the strain of being sane, so I can appreciate them far more.)
Secondly, to those who haven’t read: why am I talking to you? You don’t even bother to read this crap!
Thirdly, as an update to anyone who is at all interested in how I’m doing with my challenge: well, the number of posts so far should tell you. If I were to go about things in a standardized, regulated method (like the tortoise) I should have written at least 16 posts for January. I made it out with 17. So, that’s actually right on track, surprisingly.
It feels like I’ve written far less than I’m supposed to. Afterall, there’s only 11 months left in the year, right? And the year will inevitably throw a lot of things at me that could easily derail my writing plans. It seems that if there were ever a time to build a healthy buffer it’d be now.
What’s the problem, you ask? Simple- the same boring, redundant, painfully repetitive problem that always interferes: my inner citric. The voice that pops up and tells me the idea-ish thought that I have is either entirely too stupid to write, or entirely too good to be written well by me (because I’m not capable of that) and squashes it before it’s even had the chance to build into a real idea. Yes, that is the source of all my neuroses and it has plagued my conscious thought since my earliest memory.
Wise friends of mine who are capable of far more impressive feats of creativity than I say that it is important to keep a squeaky mallet on hand to beat that little voice into submission. I don’t seem to have an internal squeaky mallet. I can use logic to argue with the voice- but a debate is not an instant quashing like I need.
How do I plan to solve this? Well, I don’t know. I’d love some ideas, though. So, I’m hereby opening up a suggestion box for you to utilize on the blog. (See it? It's up at the top right under countdown!) In it, I will be accepting personal feedback (though comments are still deeply appreciated), suggestions for how to kill that inner critic in my head or stories of how you fight yours, writing challenges and/or any and all ideas you may have for stories you think I should write.
And as grateful as I am for your comments I will be equally grateful for your input. Possibly more so. In fact, I might take your input out to dinner. I might drop a roofie into your input’s drink when it’s not looking. I might do dirty, dirty things to it when it’s unconscious. I will most certainly be grateful. So start dropping those suggestions!