I’m starting to think about trying to write fiction again. I don’t know if it’s a good idea, though. I’ve got some stress in my life at the moment, and while writing could be a good vent for that stress, it could also end up simply adding to it (opposite possible effects are always a joy).
I’ve never managed to stick with it in the past. I tend to lose interest pretty quickly because, let’s face it, writing is hard. I’ve studied writing and how to teach it, so I like to think I have some authority on this subject. And I firmly believe that anyone who claims that writing is easy is either (a) gifted with a rare and amazing talent, or (b) completely out of their gourd and possibly self-destructive in some way.
And then there are my merciless self-editing and my sense of completion. Both are bad, but together they can be catastrophic. Because there’s nothing like a little perfectionism to bring a completionist to a complete and total screeching halt. Constantly doubting the quality of one’s output is a sure-fire way to keep from finishing anything. But that particular dead horse can never be beaten quite enough…
Needless to say, I’ve never been able to complete a novel-length project. They often don’t make it past the outline stage. But this time I’ve got the idea in my head that it doesn’t need to be a novel. Maybe I can keep it together long enough to get a comic miniseries going.
So if it doesn’t come easy, I probably won’t stick with it. And maybe that’s the best attitude I can approach it with. Maybe if I keep my expectations low enough, I won’t fail to meet them. Damn, that actually sounds pretty sad now that I think about it.