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Leara-Curoe's Rarely Ever Used Journal
This Journal, as tiled will more then likely never be used unless I decide to post a story up here, or I suddenly have some news I just have to tell everyone.
I struggle with the thought "I'm not good enough" more often then not I keep telling myself that the things that I was once proud of aren't good enough.

I love to write, and when I look at works that I had finished just a few months before I find so many things wrong with them that I don't know what to do with myself. I see spelling errors, words not being in the correct tense, lines that don't make sense, passing that is it way off, and conversations that sound awkward.

Half the time I feel so scared to even mention my work to people. I'm scared to say I'm a writer. Not because I'm a writer, but because I'm scared to admit out loud that I'm not good enough. I feel like I'm a child and I'm saying I want to be a doctor unaware of what I have to do to become one when people talk about my work. Then when people read my work and tell me it's good I feel like they are just humoring me. To me I feel like they don't want to tell me it's bad because it will hurt my feelings.

I never receive constructive criticism. The only word I get from a reader is "It was good" or "I liked it." That's all I ever get. More then anything I just want people to tell me "hey, I think this parts a little slow" or "I think he talks kind of off for his character" but I'm left with nothing.

This fear of showing my work has gotten so bad that I'm having trouble writing essays. I sit there unable to bring my hand to the keyboard because I know I will end up hatting it or rather I'll end up settling on the final product.

In a lot of ways I feel trapped in a perpetual writers block. I know what I want to write about, but when I get to the point where I need to write something down nothing is good enough. I keep reciting this mantra in my head to the point where the writing isn't even passable anymore. Before I would settle on string of words and be happy with it, but now I can't even get past a sentence.

There are times when I say a sentence out loud and I love the way it sounds, but then it's gone before I can put it on paper. That is really discouraging. Since the fear that my memory is fading is already present, then I can't remember a simple line I said three seconds prior.

In the end, I know that there is nothing I can do that will help me. Maybe someone telling me that there are problems with my work, but it's not as bad as I think is is what I need, but there isn't anyone who can give me that. No one I know is qualified enough to give me the kind of critique after all I've ever revised is...

"I liked it."





 
 
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