Being honest with myself

because sometimes you just have to.

There’s a reason for my love of procrastination, and to be blunt about it, it’s a complete lack of faith in my own abilities.

As much as I would love to be a writer, I don’t believe I have the ability to do it. I don’t believe I have an imagination to come up with great stories. I’m almost of the opinion why am I bothering? before I even start. Every other year I sign myself up for NaNoWriMo, and every other year I sit for a few days staring at a blank screen, before beginning to find and increasing number of other things to do instead of sitting there, and finally giving up for another year.

Then because I’ve given up I feel like everyone I know is laughing at my attempts to call myself anything because I can’t do it, and that every time I say something about writing people just sneer to themselves that I’m all talk.

I set myself up for failure every year before I start. I believe I am a failure, and unable to do this. In fact I often wonder if I shouldn’t just give it all up and resign myself to just being a reader, but then the annoying little voice inside my head tells me I’ll never be happy if that’s what I do.

It remains to be seen if I manage to do anything this month, but as always I’ll give it a try, and if I can at least beat my all time best of 10,000 words then maybe there’s a glimmer of hope for me after all.

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