Coming Clean.
Fine. I'll admit it: I didn't submit the essay on Sunday.
However, I did start it. I also decided the order in which I'd present my information. I even set time aside to work on it on Sunday.
But, I didn't submit it. And it's not because I didn't want to pay the submission fee--at least not entirely.
The reason I didn't submit my essay is because I didn't like what I wrote. I didn't like the style or the flow or the subject matter or the structure or the syntax or the blah blah blah. I didn't like it and I felt embarrassed that I thought I would be able to win the essay writing competition when the essay I'd written was nowhere near good enough. And the thought of sharing what I'd written made me nervous and nauseous and I'm starting to realize that part of the reason why I don't submit anything that I write is because sharing my writing makes me anxious.
Not to mention that, as of yesterday, I realized that posting anything online gives me anxiety. It's weird and counterproductive to ever having a career in writing. I mean, pray tell, but how does one become a famous writer if one does not share what one writes? What is the point of even pursuing a career as a writer, when I feel that I will never be good enough?
So I think I'm at yet another impasse, only that, instead of it pertaining to my romantic life, it's about my career in writing, and I'm stuck wondering, "to share or not to share".
(I'm leaning very heavily on the "not" right now.)
However, I did start it. I also decided the order in which I'd present my information. I even set time aside to work on it on Sunday.
But, I didn't submit it. And it's not because I didn't want to pay the submission fee--at least not entirely.
The reason I didn't submit my essay is because I didn't like what I wrote. I didn't like the style or the flow or the subject matter or the structure or the syntax or the blah blah blah. I didn't like it and I felt embarrassed that I thought I would be able to win the essay writing competition when the essay I'd written was nowhere near good enough. And the thought of sharing what I'd written made me nervous and nauseous and I'm starting to realize that part of the reason why I don't submit anything that I write is because sharing my writing makes me anxious.
Not to mention that, as of yesterday, I realized that posting anything online gives me anxiety. It's weird and counterproductive to ever having a career in writing. I mean, pray tell, but how does one become a famous writer if one does not share what one writes? What is the point of even pursuing a career as a writer, when I feel that I will never be good enough?
So I think I'm at yet another impasse, only that, instead of it pertaining to my romantic life, it's about my career in writing, and I'm stuck wondering, "to share or not to share".
(I'm leaning very heavily on the "not" right now.)
Comments