“To write something you have to risk making a fool of yourself.”
― Anne Rice
I've been making a fool of myself for 35 years, and I still haven't a completed a piece of fiction. Though, maybe by claiming myself to be a writer, I have.
Currently I have been a member for 6 yrs at Hubpages, and have not been identified as a spotlight writer, nor do my hp accolades put me in the category of well read, or even viewed amongst the hb greats.
I've been contemplating a lot lately. Whether writing is a true passion, a passing fancy, or a dream never to be realized. And I can only say that I have yet to determine where I fit.
My poetry here has been here since I started, some long lost remnants of a youth spoiled by overthinking, and some momentary bursts of emotion. But all written in the first 3 yrs of my time on hubpages.
I truly do not know how people do it. Make a plan, stick to it, struggle with it, find the motivation and eventually complete the task at hand.
There's been plenty of discussion surrounding the type of writer you are: a pantser, or a planner/ plodder. I am an idea man. Tons of ideas. quips of dialogues I imagined having, setting, environments, and or characters that burn through my head and end up on the blank pages, only to have moved from one cell (My imagination), to another (the new blank page). I don't think that is supposed to be how it works. I figured out as a child that ideas and writing came hand in hand and that once you start something the two are hand in hand, that the words freed the thoughts, and there was a cathartic event to occur with this process. However, I see my workings as stuck in time. Where there should be movement and fluidity, it has now come to be cemented and stagnant. Impervious to time or edits or re-drafts, just quasi completed works of someone who has yet to realize his dream, or maybe, the incomplete works of a never will be.