Developing Opportunities

While  I  worked  my  way  through  the  day   I  constantly  checked  my  e-mails  and  waited  on  important  information.  I  had  documents  that  my  life  depended  upon,  and  my  self-confidence  struggled  to  focus  when  I  needed  it  to.

I  continued  to  work  on  my  rewrites,  and  each  time  my  phone  vibrated  on  the  desk  I  jumped  at  the  chance  to  check  it.  The  e-mails  were  useless,  a  bunch  of  generic  sales  rubbish  that  I  was  bombarded  with  on  a  daily  basis.  It  did  nothing  for  my  anxiety.

 I  was  still  waiting.

I’d  reached  another  milestone  Thursday  evening;  I’d  completed  my  rewrites.  Nature’s  Destiny  was  another  step  closer  to  being  published.  Friday  saw  the  beginning  of  the  final  edits,  (juxtaposition anyone?)  yet  I  still  pontificated  over  that  e-mail.  No  matter  what  I  tried  I  couldn’t  stop  thinking  about  it.  Was  it  good  enough?  Or  had  I  digressed  and  lost  the  plot  completely?

There  was  only  so  much  hostility  my  mind  could  take  from  itself  before  I  gave  up  completely.

And  then  it  arrived  with  a  score  of  96%.

My  heart  swelled  with  happiness,  and  the  smile  that  occupied  my  face  was  non-negotiable.  My  final  creative  writing  assignment  had  returned,  and  it  wasn’t   awful  like  I’d  convinced  myself.  I’d  done  it!

Sadness  came  soon  after  as  I  realised  I’d  finished  another  chapter  of  my  life.  I  pondered  for  a  while  until  I  thought  of  the  many  pathways   I  was  about   to  embark  upon.  After  all,  what  good  was  a  novel  with  only  one  chapter?

My  journey  was  far  from  over  with  creative  writing,  it  had  barely  begun.  As  I  waved  goodbye  to  one  opportunity,  I  welcomed  the  next  with  a  brave  smile  and  a  shielded  heart.

 I  wasn’t  invincible,  but  I  felt  like  a  superhero  in  my  own  world.

 

Battling With A Poisonous Mind

I  pounded  my  head  against  the  desk  again,  frustrated  at  my  lack  of  creativity.  The  word  document  open  on  my  white  laptop  held  the  same  sentence  I’d  deleted,  rewritten,  and  deleted  again  before  deciding  it  was  actually  decent  enough  to  keep.  #Irritating

I  closed  the  document,  and  clicked  on  the  internet  icon  knowing  exactly  where  I  was  heading  –  Social  Media.  Twitter,  Facebook,  an  update  on  the  blogosphere,  anything  was  better  than  having   to  scrunch  my  brain  into  writing  something  worthwhile.

Between  self-doubt  and  procrastination  feeding  each  other,  I  wasn’t  getting  very  far.  The  blank  wall  always  seemed  infinitely  more  interesting  than  any  drivel  I  was  sure  to  waffle  on  about.

Writing  as  a  craft  was  exciting,  exhilarating,  stupefying  and  damn  terrifying.  I  was  alone  in  my  pursuit  to  create   a  masterpiece,  saving  all  comments  for  when  my  manuscript  was  perfectly  polished  to  my  satisfaction.  Only  then  could  I  really  appreciate  the  feedback.  That  was  until  the  seeds  of  doubt  grew  into  a  mighty  tree,  and  the  evil  demon  sitting  on  my  shoulder  grew  into  the  devil.

Do  you  ever  feel  like  your  head  has  turned  into  a  jumbled  mess?

I’d  read  articles  online  in  an  attempt  to  ease  the  warring  conflict  of  what  I  thought  was  right  and  wrong.  Trying  to  find  the  answer  to  my  harmony.  Was  I  good  enough?

My  already  gooey  brain  turned  into  an  even  bigger  slush  pile,  as  the  articles  contradicted  one  another.  What  was  I  supposed  to  believe  now?  I  liked  logistics,  and  I  liked  rules,  but  when  they  clashed  it  left  me  with  a  headache,  and  an  uneasy  stomach.

Advice.  That’s  what  I  needed.  The  best  I  ever  got  was  to  forget  about  the  rules  and  just  write.  I   soaked  up  information  like  a  sponge,  and  what  I  thought  was  the  right  way  to  do  something,  wasn’t  the  right  way  for  me.  I  flexed  out  my  fingers  like  a  pianist,  and  bashed  away  at  the  keyboard.  Something  was  better  than  nothing.

The   key  role  to  writing  was  that  it  was  personal.  My  way  wasn’t  your  way,  but  I’d  still  get  there  in  the  end.  And  wasn’t  that  the  point?  To  share  our  passions  with  readers?

Writing  was  as  solitary  as   I  made  it,  but  I  wasn’t  alone.  Not  really.  I  couldn’t  expect  my  writing  to  be  perfect,  when  I  wasn’t  a  perfect  human.  I  was  my  own  worst  enemy,  but  it  was  time  to  loosen  the  reins  a  little.

“Whatever  happens,  happens.  We  can’t  go  back  in  time,  and  there’s  no  point  in  guessing  what  might  happen,  it’ll  cloud  your  judgement  and  you’ll  second-guess  your  motives.  No  good  can  come  from  that.  You  need  to  believe  in  yourself  Luna.”
–  Riley,  Nature’s  Destiny,  coming  2014