So, it’s Day 12 of NaNoWriMo. We’re almost half way through. Right now, I’m about 20,000 words in and I’m going to type more tonight. After I bake a cake.
And I realized something. As I churned those words out every night (well, I missed two days last week), something dawned on me with a vivid, piss yellow light.
I suck. Big time.
It is hypnotizing how awful these sentences are. I stare at those words and think ‘Wow. I created that.’ But instead of the snuggly pride that one feels when they look at their newborn baby, I felt vaguely nauseated.
It’s painful. I look at the words on my screen and I’m like ‘Sweet Baby Jesus in a Manger, could this be any worse?’ and then I go and defy my own expectations.
But that’s not the end.
I’ve been tempted to curl up in a fetal ball and drown in my salty tears, but that would accomplish nothing.
Just because I suck now doesn’t mean I’ll always suck.
And that’s the beautiful things about writing.
You can get better.
Me, I need to keep practicing. I need to keep writing. I need to exercise these lazy writer muscles, work them until they’re used to the effort.
And I need to read more. By beholding, you become changed. I don’t have the time really, but I’m going to have to squeeze the pulpy lemon that’s my day and keep squeezing until more juicy time comes out.
It’s not fun admitting that I’m awful at something I’ve defined myself by for over fifteen years now.
But one good thing about sucking so badly? It can only get better, right?