Fool

NaNoWriMo just depresses me. It serves as a painful reminder that my dreams are not unique and that are hundreds of thousands of people more dedicated than I am, more talented than I am.

The older I get, the worse my writing becomes - as though any latent talent I may have once had has all but dried up. It’s singularly the most frustrating thing in my life. I have so many stories to tell but I just can’t get them out - there’s a fundamental flaw in the mind-to-page process that I can’t repair, and my thoughts are not so much lost in translation as brutally bludgeoned to death by a talentless hack.

There are millions of people all over the world trying to write a book and I’m fooling myself if I think I have anything special. It’s been twenty years: I need to let this stupid fucking dream go.

Posted on 10th November, 2007 at 7:00 pm |

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