I Feel Like I'm Not Good Enough
My unfortunate passion is writing. I say "unfortunate" because ... well ... I pretty much suck at writing. Translated: My writing is mind-numbingly boring. No matter how I try (and I do try), it ends up being utterly drab and dull. I tend to digress from the main story and wind up detailing some completely trivial scenario, never infusing the story with the passion that fuels me to write it in the first place! I am too "wordy", yet don't say enough. Droplets of blood form on my head before I am able to "tell" vs. "show". And yet, I am driven by some insane urge to write. What a confounding and utterly frustrating place to be!
I ask myself why I even bother, particularly after reading almost anything else in print (e.g., magazine articles, literary journals -- both fiction/non-fiction, essays, blogs, etc.). And God forbid that I read stories that have won contests -- some of which I have submitted my own story to!
That huge slice of humble pie being forced down my throat sometimes gets stuck and I pound my forehead with my hand, waiting for the lunacy police to come arrest me. And yet ... I continue to write. Why?!? I wish I had a logical answer, but alas ... I do not. I must be insane. What other explanation is there? I read some of the experiences shared here and while I strongly identify with the hopelessness punctuating many stories, I become ashamed at how base my writing seems in comparison. *sigh* I just don't measure up and my deepest fear is that I never will.
Oh, and if you actually like what I wrote here, please don't compare it to my fiction and non-fiction debacles. They all suck. Trust me -- they do. Which is why I sought out this website in the first place: to try to find other souls out there struggling with feeing "less than", no matter what we do.
Thanks for taking the time to read my diatribe (laced with a lethal dose of self-pity) about not feeling good enough. May we all find that source of significance which we seek.
I ask myself why I even bother, particularly after reading almost anything else in print (e.g., magazine articles, literary journals -- both fiction/non-fiction, essays, blogs, etc.). And God forbid that I read stories that have won contests -- some of which I have submitted my own story to!
That huge slice of humble pie being forced down my throat sometimes gets stuck and I pound my forehead with my hand, waiting for the lunacy police to come arrest me. And yet ... I continue to write. Why?!? I wish I had a logical answer, but alas ... I do not. I must be insane. What other explanation is there? I read some of the experiences shared here and while I strongly identify with the hopelessness punctuating many stories, I become ashamed at how base my writing seems in comparison. *sigh* I just don't measure up and my deepest fear is that I never will.
Oh, and if you actually like what I wrote here, please don't compare it to my fiction and non-fiction debacles. They all suck. Trust me -- they do. Which is why I sought out this website in the first place: to try to find other souls out there struggling with feeing "less than", no matter what we do.
Thanks for taking the time to read my diatribe (laced with a lethal dose of self-pity) about not feeling good enough. May we all find that source of significance which we seek.
By:
suzyn65
Age:
41-45
