It has been almost a year since I have written for Yuppee, published what I like to call a proper article. I mean I have been on my own blog over at Freckles and Frolics ranting and posting the odd few paragraphs but nothing with any structure and honestly, this embarrasses me.
I’m back today after finding a folder I made last year of my favourite pieces and wondered why I haven’t found the time to come back until now. Is it because I can’t be bothered or because of a really bad case of writers block? Possibly. I hate to make excuses but I believe it lies with the anxiety that had made it’s way back into my life last Autumn.
Thing with anxiety is, even though I don’t completely understand it, it finds it way back into your life at your happiest times. I’ve always compared it to that one creepy ex we all have that we just can’t seem to get rid of despite telling ourselves we’ve moved on and reasoning with it. It destroys your confidence and makes you feel utterly worthless. Why would I post an article nobody would even read? If I did and it got no likes or comments I’d delete it just twenty minutes later. Stupid. Nobody wants to look at your articles.
I love writing and reading and reading to learn and reading for pleasure and writing for pleasure and every aspect of literature. Ever since I was a little girl (gets out violins) I have dreamed of being an author and/or journalist. I’d write fiction for friends on their high school crush, heck I even wrote fan-fiction for Supernatural at one point. There has been no finished piece that I have any regrets over and even now, at 23, I still feel I’m finding my feet, I have the same passion that ten year old Rebecca had. I do.
I am currently writing a collection of short stories over on my blog that I am reserved to publish because the anxiety had taken away the confidence I had about my work. Yet I continue to write because I am beating it.
So, I guess in conclusion this article is basically; me making excuses to myself for being such a lame writer as well as a persuasive piece telling me to not to let the little blighter that is anxiety take away my dreams. Ironically, writing is like therapy and I guess I am on my way to beating it because this is one of many articles I have written in the past few months and have many more to follow.