Member-only story
I Hate Everything I’ve Ever Written
Hi I’m losing my mind. And that’s normal.
I wake up with a stone tied to me. I call them heavy mornings. I’ve left this story half way and it looks at me with sidelong sadness. I take a ‘writing’ trip where I sit before the laptop for hours watching sparrows peck at the window. When I can’t get a word out, I call into question everything I’ve ever written. I doubt all the work I’ve done. I try to summon the compliments and the awards. Nothing. The urge to burn it all kicks up.
I double click on the writing folder and look at the murky pool of my — finished and unfinished — writings. Poetry. Short Stories. NaPoWriMo24. Published. To Submit.
What is all of this? What good is any of it? But is it horrible? Oh, what is even the point?
Words written on paper — a paper on a screen — upset me enough to water down my tea or else my stomach turns. The only solace is that this is not the first time it’s happened to me. Once a year, a tsunami of anguish washes over me and I hate everything I’ve written. I hate I’m a writer. I want to pick up my laptop and throw it in the bushes. I want to press delete on my Google Drive and hide my face in a river.
This is bigger than writer’s block. This is a writer wanting to bomb. And a literary writer mostly wants to bomb…
