A Date by Myself

I am once again far from home. Home being my Laptop. I have been dragged to Glasgow and abandoned to wander alone. Sibling is on a date and I’m drinking two Costa drinks; sitting alone in the YA section of Waterstones. So of course, I am perfectly happy.

I haven’t properly worked on my creative writing this week. Nor have I been reading. Or editing. Nothing as usual. I think my biggest problem right now is that I know how terrible my writing is. It is frustrating to have to send terrible writing for feedback knowing what’s already wrong with it. In theory I should be able to write a brilliant story, knowing what makes one, but nothing pours out my fingers when I go to write.

I have tons of ideas. I’ve been having complete story dreams again. I just can’t get those ideas out of my head. Frankly, I am terrible. Writers’ Block might not be a thing but not producing anything of value is a serious problem.

Of course, maybe I am just being too critical of myself (and possibly everyone else). I haven’t read a really good book in a while. I find fault in all. I’ve always been a critical little shit and now that applies to my own writing. I don’t feel I’ve improved in years. My best work is four years old and I’m starting to see the issues with that.

 I would just like a story to come out formed instead of stilted and unworkable. I got a low B for Creative Writing and I think that I was lucky to get that. I will probably post those stories here, as there are too bad to do anything else with.

I bet you think I should just shut up and write. That maybe my problem is that I am expecting to find gold in a dried up river instead digging it out of the mountain. Cursing every black rock and throwing them away rather than polishing them to gleam gold. Well, I feel like I am polishing them to nothing.

I have no solution for this issue but to try and write out of it. It doesn’t seem to be working. Like I said I think everyone is terrible; at least I’m still grouping myself with published, best selling, acclaimed and award winner writers. I’m pretty sure the issue is with me.

On brighter news, my car has been fixed. Turns out I’ve been driving a death trap for over a month. The coil spring had broke in front right wheel and it had gotten into the steering and scraped a bolt as well. I went on the motorway several times with it like that. Probably happen in a pothole, which is not surprising as someone has dug up giant holes on the road I drive to get home. Also speed bumps are the devil. Don’t even work. Some mental risked death this week by spending hours going up and down a walking path on a scooter or something. Many threaten death. I just cursed him with fake magic.

I have finished both my drinks. This is a good moment to end this post of self wore. I am now going to find a book to read on the train home.

Update: I accidentally posted this twice due to bad internet. To match my two drinks I suppose.