I’ll admit it. I live in fear. Always.
Constantly, I fear that my writing ideas will run dry or that I will have so many ideas that I’ll never get them all out–that there will be fantastic stories I want to tell and, even if they’re terrible, that I’ll never release them all.
I fear that my writing won’t be exactly as I want it. No matter how many times I edit, no matter how much I scrutinize, I fear that I will always have been able to “do better”.
I fear that I will pass on something amazing because I did not have the patience or the lucidity of vision to take it, shape it, and create the diamond that lies within that ugly piece of coal.
I’m afraid that the idea I go with that shapes an entire story is the wrong idea, and only after I publish the finished product will I realize that, no, I NOW have the perfect idea but it is too late to change it all. What if The Beatles really had gone with “Scrambled Eggs” because they couldn’t come up with the actual lyrics for “Yesterday”? Yeah, that.
All of this is part of the reason it takes me so damn long to produce a final product (yes, part of it is also time constraints–gotta pay the bills). I am not a perfectionist, but I question everything. If something in my writing can be done better, then I want to do it better. I want to look at each piece my writing from every angle, inside and out. I want to tell the best damn story that I can.
And that story may suck but at least I will know that it was the best effort I could put forth.