Any time lightning strikes theres a rain on my parade

When an idea strikes, I become a possessed man. My mind can think of nothing else, I must write it down. I tell everyone how excited I am.

If they didn’t notice by my visible shaking.

I then have a brainstorm, and try to turn this idea into a fruitious and viable concept. something I can work with. Something I can handle, something that’s palpable.

I look at all of the possible routes I could go with it. I look at all the possible places I want to go. This maybe is where the problems begin. I was just enjoying the ride up to this point – I didn’t even consider the destination. And then the indecision sets in. the restlessness of mind turns from an exciting factor to an anxious tick.

Many projects are dropped by which point. But if I’m not disillusioned by then, I dip in my toes. I run with it for a page or two. I see how it feels. It is at this point that the characters don’t seem viable or real to me any more. I just look at them in my mind and see their dialogue and the crumble before me, turn to sand in a gusty wind.

“Where did it go?”, I think. where is the flair that i had not so long ago. Have I lost it? if so, where did I lose it, and when and why and HOW? I can’t bring myself to write then for another while. Another long time. I forget about that whole strand of my life. Until floating along, a month later is another idea, and the whole process begins again.

I think the key to the problem is that I can’t convince myself I’m a writer. I can’t convince myself I’m anyone. Not a journalist, not a damn thing, not even a blip.

But if I look back and remember what I’ve done before,the work I’ve completed, the things I’ve achieved. Sure, they’re only mickey mouse things to count but they are commendation. I never consider these things enough in a world where the importance of peers are deemed not to matter.

They are constantly underplayed and if the opinions of peers don’t matter then all I have is my own. And I am the harshest of critics. the most cynical of critics. the worst person you could ever ask for constructive advice from. But this is only regarding my own work, that is.

The most important thing I ever did was finish work. even if  it is crap, it is a building block to somewhere. It is a new thing for my portfolio and with these works then I have a legitimate claim to being a writer.

Let’s just hope I can make a better job of the next idea that strikes.


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