The Writing Voices In my Head

So I don’t know about anyone else, but I tend to swing between two polar opposite mindsets about myself and blogging/writing in general.

1. I have so many thoughts that are interesting and informed and ideas that I want to share about how I view the world! I want to show everyone what life is like as a queer girl! I want to write shit down because it makes me happy and maybe people will like it too and that is a bonus!



2. Who the actual fuck do I think I am? My life is really not that interesting and why would anyone want to read about what I think about anything anyway? Isn’t it, like, the height of pretension to think that anyone reads my stuff, or that it affects them in any way? I’m not a ‘real’ writer. There are tons of people with more valid perspectives and more interesting life experiences then me.


Anyone else feel this way? I love to write, I always have, but there is something about saying out loud “I have a blog” and “I’m writing a novel” that just always make me feel like when a little kid says “I’m going to be President of the United States when I grow up!” and the adults around that kid smile indulgently and say, “of course you are” and pat their head and then look at each other with that look that says “how adorable these totally unrealistic dreams are.”

But then I remember that I’ve…. like.. published shit… not a book, but still, stuff…so maybe I should take voice number 1 more seriously. And who is voice number 2 to tell me what I can and can’t do anyway? YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME VOICE NUMBER 2!

I’ve had this novel rolling around in my head. And I’ve half-heartedly tried to put it down on paper a few times, but I always get blocked by voice number 2. Voice number 2 that says “Shakespeare, Sondheim and Sedaris did it before you and better than you.” Wait.. no.. that’s a line from [Title of Show]. But anyway, the point still stands. Voice number 2 says, “you’ll never be published and if you never get published then what does it matter? Why bother?” This is a nasty side effect of my Go big or Go home instinct. I tend to only want to do things 1000% or not at all. This is not always a good thing.  So anyway, I’ve decided that I don’t care if nothing ever comes of it or if no one ever reads it but me I am going to write the shit that is in my head. Down. On paper. Well a computer, but same thing. Because it makes me happy and that is a good enough reason.

I’m going to start by doing Laurie Halse Anderson’s Write Fifteen Minutes A Day challenge for the month of September. And then I’m going to do NaNoWriMo. Just fucking because.

I’m not always great about encouraging comment interaction, but please feel free! Tell me about your writing insecurities. Tell me about the things you are scared to do. Or not, that’s cool too.

Now excuse me, I have to go write.


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