Ugh!

[saitaina]

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I havne’t been able to write ANYTHING since my last single fanfiction (meaning not related to my writing group). I’m…scared, or something. “It Wasn’t Me” sucked so bad that now I’m to afraid to attempt to write anything.

I mean, I’ve written crap before, hell look at any of my early HP works, *shudders* but…no one ever TOLD me they were bad. Seriously. Ever piece I’ve written since I started actually taking my work seriously (about thirty fics ago) has been well recived. Never a flame, never…anything. Sure someone might bitch about the parings or tell me when something doesn’t work, but they’ve never told me the whole thing was a waste. Hell even my Mary Sue phase had people gushing.

Until “It Wasn’t Me”.

I mean, I know it happens to everyone, at some point. But I had been riding so high for eight years that the crash was brutal when it came. It’s not like I haven’t TRIED writing, I released the latest chapter of “Weather is Here…” but…there’s no emotion in it, no feeling. I wrote in faster then I write anything (usually thirty minutes for each chapter/story) and it’s just..a bridge piece. It doesn’t suck, but it’s not good either. It’s just…there. Filler. And I didn’t even want to write it. I wrote it to shut people up about the length of time between the last chapter and this one.

…

And people are loving it. Which just proves I can’t belive what people say about my works because they’re gushing over a filler piece that contains three pages of nothing.

Ugh…the spark is gone. I mean, there are pieces I want to write…that I should write *hides novel disk*. But I just..can’t. I’m afraid the next thing I write will be crap…and the next, and so on and so forth till everything I’ve worked for, for eight years is gone.

I’ve started writing het again (and I don’t even READ het…ick). It’s still forulamatic to me….which makes it easy to write I guess. But it’s not where my heart lies.

…

I just wanted to write one novel. To complete one story that might touch someone…some how. I wanted…

Okay, honestly? In the dead of the night, when I’m staring at my cealing, I dream of writing something that will be worth something. Writing something that would be great. That would allow me to tell everyone who said I would never amount to anything to ‘fuck off’.

But how can I do that with writing that has no passion, no feeling? How can I do that when I’m to scared to try anymore?

Maybe Jessie was write and I’m telling the same story over and over again….maybe that story is over now.

*sigh* I think, after I finish “The End of the Begining”, I’m going to stop writing. That was supposed to be my fic, the one that excelled. Instead it’s the one that’s forgotten. No one reads it anymore…or ever did. Everyone wants fluff and romance and everything working out in the end…and I just can’t write that. After eight years…I’m ready for the end of the begining. I think I’m ready for the end of everything.

Eight years…sixty plus fan fictions…ten fandoms…three original novels and one collection….one dream, fading away.