The wall

How often, as a blogger, have you had an idea for a post and then thought about it a little too long and decided... nup, that's crap, I won't post that.

And that idea dies a little death, and your voice dies a little death with it.

I'm going through this at the moment.  I'm reading a lot of blogs... amazing, inspirational, intimidating, and wet-your-pants-hilarious blogs, and while I'm in awe of everything being put out there, unfortunately it is stoking the fires of the "I'm not worthy".

This is what I call The Wall.  It's what stops creation.

My mum visited me last weekend.  She bought with her a folder of stuff my grandpa had collected over the years of me and my brothers.  Amongst it - actually, most of it - was writings of mine from when I was in primary school.

At 9 years old, I wrote a series of books.  Much like Mr. Men (isn't everything derivative?), but my main character was Apple, and his friends were other fruits, like Grapes and Bananas.  Apple went on lots of adventures, like to the circus, his first day at school, even spring cleaning (Lol).

What's remarkable to me as I read them over was not the content - the stories were pretty basic - but that I'd written THIRTEEN of these mini-books, and all of them were carefully illustrated, stapled along the edges and "bound" with sticky-tape.  I was a pretty serious amateur author and clearly I was posessed by my project at the time.

I haven't felt that way in a long time, and it's sad.  At what stage did I give up my dream to be a proper writer?

I think a lot of people in the blog community can probably relate to this.

So now, as I ponder whether to post THIS or not, I'll say fuck it, and post it.  Because I do have a voice, and it's me... and although my blog may still be in its infancy and not yet know what it wants to be, I'm sure others can relate.  Many others have been where I am and can relate.

My beautiful sister in law gave me a book "Writing a Novel for Dummies" :D (Goddamn those Dummies people do everything, don't they?).  I'm reading it at the moment and ideas are gestating.  New ideas start with a tiny blastocyst in the brain and become something; they're born from that crazy thought you had, that you finally gave the respect it deserved.  Somebody's brain has to do it, why not mine?  The only thing stopping me is the wall.  YOU?