So today I promised myself that I would write this outline.
I have to somehow get Cassandra from the house into the field. What are the possibilities here?
I bought this book that says if you write anything but do it everyday then you are a writer. I actually have to write at least 500 words a day or I think I’m cheating myself. So basically I’ve been cheating myself for quite some time. I always think no one will know. But I know. And suddenly that is enough. What I think of myself is way more important than what anyone else thinks of me.
A dear writer friend once said her greatest fear was lying on her death bed and asking herself:
What if I had finished that screenplay?
There is something so penetrating about that question especially if you’re asking it on your deathbed. And if I never tried. What would happen then? I have to try. Because without trying I’ve already defeated myself before I ever start.
I’m terrified that it will be shitty. I’m terrified people won’t like it. That it will be crap.
Well I have actually gotten that kind of feedback. And you know what is so precious? I can just rewrite it. I can make it better. I can have an editor help me structure it or rearrange it or see the flaws that I don’t see. I can keep writing every day until one day it is all done. And I can finally start another one. Day after day after day.
And that is what art is.
The long haul marathon.
I might actually finally be getting on board.
I will not let someone else or myself or my wounds or my failures or my perceptions hold me back any longer. Not one more day. Never again. Enough of that.