I've had a painful case of Writer's Block for almost the past two months. I could attribute it to many things, stress among them, but that wouldn't solve the problem. Taking a few writing courses, I thought, seemed a fine way to shake myself loose. So, I signed up for two.
Writing courses, however, require students to share their work with the class. This is both logical and completely reasonable...unless you're me. Allow me to explain.
I have extremely hard time showing my work to anyone. No: that's an understatement; my work doesn't survive long at all: I'll file it for a few weeks or months, then, on reading it later, physically tear it up, delete the file, or burn it -- the papers themselves, the backup disks, the CD, whatever -- as I did in high school by making use of my parent's large brick fireplace. It's extreme and stupid, I know. Yet I can't seem to help it. The urge is visceral.
Now I've painted myself into a corner such that I cannot afford to fuck up a single class for the next two, maybe three, semesters or I won't graduate. And, I've already failed Creative Writing once by being self-righteous. More honestly, I hadn't much of a final portfolio to turn in because my trash can was full.
I cannot destruct again; I can't take the resulting delay and neither can my parents or my transcript. Correcting myself, though, is far easier said than done. Far.
Yes, I can save my work to the laptop's hard disk, the Jump Drive my mother gave me for my birthday, or lock the longhand originals out of sight. But, I'd know where they were, and part of me believes that eventually the work would be destroyed, summarily, on impulse. Still, I have to try.
Badger me.
*** *** ***
Spring vacation is early this year: it's the last week of February and the very front-end of March. Time to call Zack Kinsey and make an appointment for my new ink. Booking the flights early would be a good idea, too.
Writing courses, however, require students to share their work with the class. This is both logical and completely reasonable...unless you're me. Allow me to explain.
I have extremely hard time showing my work to anyone. No: that's an understatement; my work doesn't survive long at all: I'll file it for a few weeks or months, then, on reading it later, physically tear it up, delete the file, or burn it -- the papers themselves, the backup disks, the CD, whatever -- as I did in high school by making use of my parent's large brick fireplace. It's extreme and stupid, I know. Yet I can't seem to help it. The urge is visceral.
Now I've painted myself into a corner such that I cannot afford to fuck up a single class for the next two, maybe three, semesters or I won't graduate. And, I've already failed Creative Writing once by being self-righteous. More honestly, I hadn't much of a final portfolio to turn in because my trash can was full.
I cannot destruct again; I can't take the resulting delay and neither can my parents or my transcript. Correcting myself, though, is far easier said than done. Far.
Yes, I can save my work to the laptop's hard disk, the Jump Drive my mother gave me for my birthday, or lock the longhand originals out of sight. But, I'd know where they were, and part of me believes that eventually the work would be destroyed, summarily, on impulse. Still, I have to try.
Badger me.
*** *** ***
Spring vacation is early this year: it's the last week of February and the very front-end of March. Time to call Zack Kinsey and make an appointment for my new ink. Booking the flights early would be a good idea, too.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
velocity:
Oh, and your timeframe works for me.
adjunct:
It's not easy to say this when I am similarly an afflicted perfectionist (one who doesn't do much creative writing anymore, of course), but churn it out, even if it's crap. College is not worth a nervous breakdown. You'll still be a writer regardless of whether your GPA is great or terrible, however, you won't be writing for many people if you can't show that you finished a basic education.