Hell in Words

I reflect on all I could write this year and am left with a bunch of wonderful options. You’d think I’d have hauled ass towards Word and started on dozens of things already, but the truth is that I’m stuck.

I can’t find the words. I can’t even find the inspiration. Rendered incapable of writing anything other than blog posts. But at least that’s something.

I’m trying to write a sort of Belle De Jour style book on the blog and my adventures. I’m in fear this will come out as an utter duffer, seeing as my sex life is not much to write home about. Even the intro is giving me worries. Trying to put down the history of how I became Jill Boyd is a bit frightning. I’m reliving things I really didn’t want to relive. Tell me the truth. Would you read that book? Would you read the first year of Lady Laid Bare in words?

Another struggle of mine is with writing fiction. I don’t know why I find this so hard. I’ve had numerous chats about it, and it seems that it all comes down to a variety of fears.

Fear of putting myself out there.

Fear of failing.

Fear of not keeping the plotline consistent.

Fear of not getting out the message I want to get out.

And so on. I still don’t know what kind of a writer I want to be. Maybe I do want to be more like the Jane’s Guide review says. Focussing more on the relationships than on the sex.

I want to be raw.

I want to hit a nerve.

I just need that little flicker of inspiration.

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