Hi.
College student here and I need help! Lots of it. For example, am I really cut out for this writing thing? I often feel like I’m not. This problem is accentuated, because all my friends are in technical majors and despise literature and reading – both of which make me excited -- leaving me with no one to communicate with. Ironically, I haven’t read or wrote much. I’m one of those people that talks about writing, whose head swims with these grand scenes, but end up with nothing to show for it. I look at the paper, well really the text document, and shrivel up in horror. Anything I put on there is bad and writing in gratuity leads back to “bad”. It might not be bad and some of it probably isn’t. But, it’s that inner demon, that little lumberjack deep in my heart chopping away my Ego Forest, or something.
I am also emotionally dead. I mean I can’t express emotions well, namely anything that has to do with expressing grief and sometimes happiness. I am a ball of gloom, but ironically I am terribly optimistic. However, no one really knows the gloam my mind shambles through. Because I don’t show it and no I don’t hide it – it just doesn’t come out, back to that whole expressing and emotionally dead thing. I hate people and am the most misanthropic person I’ve ever met, but then there’s that optimism thing.
I don’t want to be one of those people who talk about my book and pine over how awesome it’s going to be, but at the end of the day instead of being wide awake writing I’m wide awake thinking about writing. I spent two hours in my bed last night, tossing and turning, thinking about writing. I wrote, too. But just a mere 500 words, I felt like I was all over the place. I thought my character development was weak. Yes. I know. That was when I finally opened up one of my writing magazines and looked at the list of forums to visit. I scrolled through here last night and decided if I could frequent another forum then I could frequent this forum and maybe actually grow. I am a very creative-orientated person. I mean to say, I’m not creative, I want to be creative, I want to write and paint worlds (and paint stuff with, you know, paint!). I want to get lost in my mind and find my way out and let the world see it. It doesn’t have to be successful, it just has to be.
I feel like, every moment, I haven’t read enough to warrant me writing. I don’t know if that makes sense, but nearly every time I go to push pen to paper or finger to key I buckle and shake and back away. I back away because I feel like I need to go ravage a library and shake the knowledge out of every word I can find. I get thirsty. God awfully thirsty, but then what do I do? Well, that’s where it gets complicated.
It’s a horrible web that I haven’t managed to get out of. I recently found a 3 page story I wrote when I was 11. It was quite possibly the best thing I have ever written. Because it was complete.
That’s what I want.
I come in request of help and in return I hope that I can help you all, too – somehow.
P.S. There it is again. All over the place, but I feel like I need to shout this at people that understand the itch that I have. Maybe then I can get my ass in gear and properly scratch. So, its nice meeting ya’ll.
HEEEEEEELPPPP!
College student here and I need help! Lots of it. For example, am I really cut out for this writing thing? I often feel like I’m not. This problem is accentuated, because all my friends are in technical majors and despise literature and reading – both of which make me excited -- leaving me with no one to communicate with. Ironically, I haven’t read or wrote much. I’m one of those people that talks about writing, whose head swims with these grand scenes, but end up with nothing to show for it. I look at the paper, well really the text document, and shrivel up in horror. Anything I put on there is bad and writing in gratuity leads back to “bad”. It might not be bad and some of it probably isn’t. But, it’s that inner demon, that little lumberjack deep in my heart chopping away my Ego Forest, or something.
I am also emotionally dead. I mean I can’t express emotions well, namely anything that has to do with expressing grief and sometimes happiness. I am a ball of gloom, but ironically I am terribly optimistic. However, no one really knows the gloam my mind shambles through. Because I don’t show it and no I don’t hide it – it just doesn’t come out, back to that whole expressing and emotionally dead thing. I hate people and am the most misanthropic person I’ve ever met, but then there’s that optimism thing.
I don’t want to be one of those people who talk about my book and pine over how awesome it’s going to be, but at the end of the day instead of being wide awake writing I’m wide awake thinking about writing. I spent two hours in my bed last night, tossing and turning, thinking about writing. I wrote, too. But just a mere 500 words, I felt like I was all over the place. I thought my character development was weak. Yes. I know. That was when I finally opened up one of my writing magazines and looked at the list of forums to visit. I scrolled through here last night and decided if I could frequent another forum then I could frequent this forum and maybe actually grow. I am a very creative-orientated person. I mean to say, I’m not creative, I want to be creative, I want to write and paint worlds (and paint stuff with, you know, paint!). I want to get lost in my mind and find my way out and let the world see it. It doesn’t have to be successful, it just has to be.
I feel like, every moment, I haven’t read enough to warrant me writing. I don’t know if that makes sense, but nearly every time I go to push pen to paper or finger to key I buckle and shake and back away. I back away because I feel like I need to go ravage a library and shake the knowledge out of every word I can find. I get thirsty. God awfully thirsty, but then what do I do? Well, that’s where it gets complicated.
It’s a horrible web that I haven’t managed to get out of. I recently found a 3 page story I wrote when I was 11. It was quite possibly the best thing I have ever written. Because it was complete.
That’s what I want.
I come in request of help and in return I hope that I can help you all, too – somehow.
P.S. There it is again. All over the place, but I feel like I need to shout this at people that understand the itch that I have. Maybe then I can get my ass in gear and properly scratch. So, its nice meeting ya’ll.
HEEEEEEELPPPP!
