False-Starts, Arseholes and the Green Eyed Monster in Gothenburg

I haven’t posted on my blog for a while and that’s for a multitude of reasons.

Despite a promising start to 2015, this year has plummeted for me personally and had a serious knock on effect to my writing.    Because of other issues, my writing projects have suffered greatly to the point that I haven’t been emotionally or physically well enough to pursue doing something I really enjoy-writing.   I seem to be rubbing shoulders with a lot of arseholes in my daily life, too whether that be in a physical sense or on social media.   I seem to magnetically attract arseholes.    Thankfully I attract some nice people too, and they make the arseholes bearable.   It’s the only reason I still persist with social media, to be quite frank.

Not being able to write has made me angry, fucking angry, and bitter too.  Jealous of my peers, which is stupid, and selfish when you know first hand the hard work that they put in to make their stories and novels happen.  I suppose it’s not their success that’s given me the green eyed monster, it’s just the hurt and fear that I carry around like a bag of bricks that I’ll never write again, myself.   Which at the moment, is how it feels.

I’ve developed a kind of blind terror, too.  An almost acidic reaction to the prospect of sitting down and writing, even though I have a few projects I’m enthusiastic about and feel they could be something worth writing and stories worth telling.    Despite the pep talks, the good advice and the kind words, I still worry I’m shite and can’t deliver the goods as an author.  It hurts. A lot.

I’m thankful for my friends, I don’t have so many good friends and some of them have been there for me over the last few months.  If you’re reading this then you know who you are. And thank you. Truly.

A month on holiday was just what I needed to try and take stock and get a little perspective and I’m happy to say I feel better.    Although a part of me feels like jacking in writing, something is making me hesitate.   Maybe it’s my stubbornness, maybe I’m just fucking stupid and in denial.  Who knows.

All I know is, I’m not yet ready to chuck in the towel.   Something lingers.  The battery hasn’t died completely and I wonder if I just give it a minute and then try turning over the engine again, if it will fire up.

I guess time will tell.

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