(Oh Hi people! It may be a new column here. Talking about daily struggles with words and life can help, so let’s open up! Oh my, I sound like a counsellor)
I was put into a nice challenge last night : my friend James was talking about fan fictions, and I confessed I have never wrote one. It’s probably because in my mind, fanfics always end up in some teen steamy romance kind of thing. (Cliché much, I know).
I’m not steamy.
The challenge sounded fun though. So here I was, writing a 40s-like short story about Topher Grace (One day, I’ll tell you why Eric Foreman is my dream boy. One day) and making references about our modern day starlets. And you know what? I had so much fun.
Sometimes I forget about having fun when I write. Because I’m so focused on details, on how I should sound, on how my characters should be, on how serious that whole thing is.
You’ve guessed right, I am having trouble finishing my book.
Confession time, it’s always hard for me to finish something. The more I grow old, the more I realise my good ol’ self-esteem is behind all this : Because finishing the book means leaving the dream and the “if”, to enter the real world, to show myself…and to be open to criticism. Good or bad. I have never been good at living in the real world. I’m a dreamer. I’m more comfortable in my head than anywhere else. This book, this little collection of short-stories, is the barometer : If I can finish it and if I can show the world (whatever that means, my friends, or some people I know, or even if it ends up on Kindle), I win. I win over my low self-esteem and the voices whispering on a daily basis that I can’t do this.
There are a lot of *if *to overcome in this life, don’t you think?
(Tips and experiences very welcome on the comments. Sharing always!)