I seem to be going through a civil war right now. It's between the superficial side of me, and the creative side of me.
And Ms Superficial is winning.
I can't muster the strength to write. I stare blankly at my screen, blankly at paper, and nothing is coming. And as usual competition deadlines are looming, and Ms Superficial is not bothered. She is concerned with make up products and hair tongs. Oh and new clothes. After all, it will be Autumn soon.
I saw an amazing film the other day, Inception. It has left me stumped, because I'm beginning to doubt that I can bring anything new to the literary world. Anything worth reading anyway. I start writing, and it's the same clichés of broken homes and supressed romance and it just bores me. And if my writing bores me, who could it possibly entertain?!
Ms Creativity is drowning in doubt. I haven't danced in...months. I haven't written anything new either. I've stopped reading. I've come to a creative standstill.
I have no idea how I can turn this around. But it has to happen, somehow.
And Ms Superficial is winning.
I can't muster the strength to write. I stare blankly at my screen, blankly at paper, and nothing is coming. And as usual competition deadlines are looming, and Ms Superficial is not bothered. She is concerned with make up products and hair tongs. Oh and new clothes. After all, it will be Autumn soon.
I saw an amazing film the other day, Inception. It has left me stumped, because I'm beginning to doubt that I can bring anything new to the literary world. Anything worth reading anyway. I start writing, and it's the same clichés of broken homes and supressed romance and it just bores me. And if my writing bores me, who could it possibly entertain?!
Ms Creativity is drowning in doubt. I haven't danced in...months. I haven't written anything new either. I've stopped reading. I've come to a creative standstill.
I have no idea how I can turn this around. But it has to happen, somehow.
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