Yay! I’m finally writing again. It feels like I haven’t written in forever. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately but I haven’t been able to write more than a sentence over the last week, ever since the beginning of this new year.
I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why is picking up where I left off so hard? Then I realized that my writing’s not causing the problem. My problem is worry, worrying too much about life when I really shouldn’t worry at all.
Worry is like a roadblock in my mind. It’s a greater foe than procrastination because worry breeds idleness, for me anyway. Worrying is an excuse. If I doubt everything I write then I won’t have to put a single word on the page and will never come in contact with falling, failing, never being what I wanted to be.
So, you see, I worry and my stories sit unfinished. It’s been like this for a year now. I start. I stop. I give up. I reignite. I find my passion and try again. I’m at that stage of trying again. But trying is better than sitting idle and worrying.