Posted by: Dennie | October 14, 2013

Writing Anxiety

I don’t like this.

It’s 6:09 PM. The sun is already beginning to set and in less than an hour it’ll be totally dark. I’ve closed all the windows to keep the warmth in and the chill out.  Autumn is a lovely time of year here in New England. The days are pleasant, although not as warm as I like, and the surrounding hills are splashed with the colors of the season. But Fall is not one of my favorite seasons. It’s a prelude to winter. Everything is dying. The world is becoming darker.

But the arrival of fall is not what’s disturbing me tonight.   It’s the feelings I have as I sit here at my desk, attempting to write some creative prose regarding my tangled thoughts.  It’s the feelings associated with the arrival of fall. Sitting alone in my room, locked away from my husband and the television. Being here brings back memories of school, and homework, and struggle. Of trying to focus, yet wandering. Even now,  I’m having trouble concentrating. I pulled up my blinds to enjoy the last  waning minutes of daylight, to look out into the backyard, perhaps find some inspiration. At the edge of the woods, I can just make out the shape of two does, tentatively stepping out into the meadow. I worry about them because my husband spotted a bobcat in the driveway late last week.

I’m should be writing, not staring out the window, watching deer.

This feels too much like when I was a kid.

I felt a vague sort-of panic earlier, before I came upstairs.  I haven’t written anything since Friday and I had no idea what I would write tonight.  Saturday, I attended a seminar on the ins and outs of traditional and digital publishing. While informative and enjoyable, it drove the idea of how little I know about writing  even deeper into my awareness. When I’m feeling sane and grounded and focused, I’m comfortable with the knowledge that successful writing isn’t going to happen overnight. And I don’t mean Stephen King or Danielle Steele success. I just want to get published. Small stuff.  To make a few extra bucks. I believe I will, but I know it will take time. Diving into the water without knowing how to swim will surely drown me. Right now I’m barely dog paddling.

So why am I in this panic? Why do I feel so disturbed?  I’m not sure. I’ve been emotionally off kilter all day. Maybe that has something to do with it.

So for now, rather than continue this torture, I’ll be happy I got anything down tonight.

Tomorrow is another day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Hail Britannia

Knitting, sewing, & cooking from the wrong side of the pond

Diana Burrell

Freelance magazine writer and author

A Story a Day

A short daily daily short story

cancer. My way of dealing.

Learning to appreciate the little things, trying to find my faith, putting on a brave face. All while maintaining a sense of humor.

giorge thomas

story blogger

Quiet Desperation

"I want my place, my own place, my true place in the world. I want my proper sphere, my thing." Nathaniel Hawthorne


Observations and commentary based on a real life non-soap opera.

Turning Pages

You are confined only by the walls you build yourself.


The adventures of a ditzy English Major thrust into the real world.

Julianne Q Johnson

Pictures and words, a writer's blog.


Expressing desire , pain , heartache ,love ,passion and ambition through poetry and short stories


A New Kind of Reality

Walking with the Alligators

Speaking for those with no voice~


A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.


Read our Mission. Find out how you can help us adopt James.

Playing Your Hand Right

Showing America how to Live


I eat cheese, I run from zombies, and I do therapy

%d bloggers like this: