I'll probably regret posting this 'cause it's gonna come off as me wallowing; I know it.

Anyway, what the hey. Maybe someone else can relate and I won't be the only mental masturbator here.

I'm spoken about finishing anxiety before, and calling the waaahmbulance but I think I'm going through something a little different now. Swithered between here and 'Conquering Challenges' so it's, as always, up to the mods to leave this thread as is, or move it if appropriate.

I'm not concerned about finishing this WIP exactly. I know I can do that. But it seems my brain's done a 180 on me from yesterday's high.

So. I'm talking to tt42 on MSN just now - when do I not? And for the past hour I've been tearing my hair out, barely squeezing out 800 words and hating, oh, 799 of them.

And I know there are writers who would be glad of that, but considering last night I bashed out 2k in an hour, this is not me. I hate being a feast or famine writer.

Ask me again tomorrow, I could love it. Inconsistency thy name is scarletpeaches.

Earlier I was on a high, and now I'm...well, sinking. I think.

I sent tt42 what I'd written and she loved it - or said she did - and I read the same paragraphs thinking, "How could she, the lying cow? This is crap. Utter, utter crap." I was angry at her for not agreeing with me that I'm a fraud and a hack with no right to even be near MS Word.

I warned her I was about to chuck a big bucket of wangst over her, then said:
The only thing that stops me deleting everything (yes, even [male MC from my previous book]) is the thought of the crash that would come afterwards if I did.

I'd miss them (them being my characters) not because they're particularly well-written but because I like them more than the real people in my life.

So perhaps being surrounded by bastards is a protection.

If I had real friends I'd think "Oh fuck you, [male MC of current WIP] and get rid."
Yeah. Obviously angsting quite a bit. Mind you, so did tt42:
I can relate to that. There's times I've wanted to tank a book, then thought, "No, I don't want him/her to go away."
Me? I know in so doing I'd destroy hope as in the hope of success.

About to quote directly from the MSN convo so look away now if you really, really don't like strong swears (with sincere apologies to those who avoid vulgar speech). Okay? Good.
I swing between being convinced I'm the biggest cunt who ever booted up a laptop and being desperate for that one teeny weeny bit of hope to keep me going.
I have Lori's permission to quote her here:
For me, it's that feeling of "I need this to get me through everything else, but sdsometimes I don't think I can *DO* this enough to get me through.
So yeah. Writing's the most important thing in my life. Call me sad. Yeah, make of it what you will. I like my characters more than real people at the moment, which is kinda narcissistic in a way, 'cause they're all out of mah brainz so I'm probably just in love with my own creative genius.

Aye. Sure.

But dammit, I hate them right now. And I don't even know why. I know there are other people on AW who come a hair's breadth from deleting everything and I wonder what stops them? Is it a feeling of guilt that you'd be killing off people who don't exist? Or a teeny weeny sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, what you write doesn't suck cheesy donkey balls and with a bit of persistence you could persuade someone to take a chance on you?

Either that or some monumental acting and a prayer that your fraudulent nature won't be found out at some point.

Oh, and yes, I am prone to rampant episodes of manic depression. Whether this is one I don't know. Maybe it's common to all writers and I'm nothing special after all.

Um...thoughts? Cookies? Kicks up the backside? I feel embarrassed for feeling bad when there's not a concrete problem, just a shadow in my head.

And it has my mother's voice and tells me I'm ugly and talentless and should go die in a ditch.

I know what you're thinking: stop. Take a break. Trouble is, writing's been all I've had for so long I haven't got a clue what I'd do with my time otherwise. To think, I'm always telling other people to STFU, get on with it, stop being so down on yourself...but honestly. I'm special. I know I'm really bad.