Writer's Doubt

I'm ill, in bed.

Taking a break from uni.

I tried to write today, and found myself unable to.  And it's not that I can't write, but I doubt the words before I record them, and I end up with an empty page.  And then I started thinking, well what do I write about?

I seem to like writing dark stuff.  But then I think, well does anyone want to read that?  I wonder if I want to read it.  But, if it was in my head to write about in the first place, surely that's what I want to write about?!  It's scary, writing.  Like, after writing it down, you need to have the courage and strength to stand behind your work.  And being criticised after a while, just feels like being slapped repeatedly with a large wet stinky fish.  And as you try to defend your work that fish just gets larger and more aggressive.  And later, when considering presenting a new piece of work, you remember that big stinky fish, and you rewrite, and edit.  

You rewrite and edit, and cut and pull and tug.

Until there are no more words on the page. 

I think I need to read a lot more.  When I was younger, I would read about 3 books in a week.  I was beyond a book worm, I was a book worm colony.  I have about 300 gorgeous books in my closet, at the place I swore never to return to.  I miss them all dearly, and its clear by this Summer I will have to return in the dead of the night and reclaim them.

I'm vowing right now, to make more ME time.  I can't think, and I get stressed, and vital elements of my personality literally slip away from me.  And that is what wears me down.  

I can't let the world, take me, away from...me.  :)