Ever have one of those days where everything just kinda feels blah? Like no matter how much coffee you consume, or how many times you listen to your favorite songs on your best playlist, you don’t feel any different (which says a lot, because I live and breath coffee and music).
You’re just slugging along, secretly wondering why you’re in a funk.
My day started off at six o’clock this morning. Now, before you continue on with the impression that I’m an early riser, let me assure you that that is far from the case. I hate mornings. No lie. I’m SOOOO not one of those chirpy, the-world-is-awesome-I’m-so-happy types in the AM. It takes about two hours, a cup of coffee, and silence for me to become a decent human being.
Anyways, I had a bad dream (I have fear of all things reptiles…) and just couldn’t go back to sleep. It didn’t help that I stayed up until two in the morning scrolling through social media, and the last thing I read before falling asleep was an article on Channel 5 News about a kid waking up to pee in the middle of the night, and opening the lid to a rattlesnake in the toilet (which turns out there was a whole freaking family of snakes living underneath the house, or some crazy shit like that).
I managed to get up out of bed, after more pointless browsing on Facebook and Instagram, and entered the outside world of Cold, walked my dogs, and made a cup of coffee. I scanned my planner to see what I needed to do for the day, saw how much homework I needed to get done, and then went straight to AE’s website to browse through their spring/summer clothes, wishing it was warmer outside than what it is today. I picked out a few pairs of light high-rise jeans (because I need more light colors in my life), some really cute tops (that will go great with those light colored jeans), and a hat with a I LOVE TACOS pin on the side (I don’t wear hats usually, but I could start). By “picked out”, what I really mean is that I put all this crap in my cart–as if I was actually going to purchase $400 worth of stuff I don’t need–had a moment of wishful thinking (if only I was rich…), and then exited out of the internet.
I downed my coffee while listening to my “workworkwork” playlist on Spotify, with the two laundry hampers full of clean, unfolded clothes and towels burning in the back of my mind. They’ve been sitting in the same spot in my room for like three days now (yes, I’m kinda lazy). I’ll admit it. I procrastinate a bit, but I just haven’t been feeling the whole laundry thing here lately. So I moved my headphones to my iPhone, picked up one of the hampers, sat it on my bed, prepared to start folding… and then a really good song came on. I couldn’t resist and started dancing around, using the excuse that it would create some kind of motivation to actually fold this laundry, but nope.
The laundry hamper ended up where it had been before it was placed on my bed, and I found myself at my computer again.
Sometimes, you just have to force yourself to do crap. This was one of those times. Two hours later, I managed to get some work done, and decided to call it a break and read for a while. Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. Let me just start off by saying HOLY FREAKING CRAP. This book is amazing–so amazing, in fact, that it makes me feel like I am a horrible writer. Like when you see another person wearing the same top or jeans as you, and you instantly feel disgusting and ugly, because they make the top or pair of jeans look phenomenal. Yup. This pretty much sums it up. The Reader side of my brain can’t devour the book fast enough, but my Writer side is like, “Your writing is garbage compared to this!”
I know, I know, we shouldn’t compare our writing to others… Blah, blah, blah. But it’s really freaking hard not to. And while my Reader side can’t tear through the pages fast enough, my Writer side is analyzing the story arc and character arc, and is utterly amazed at how great and flawless it all is.
I get why we shouldn’t compare our work with others. I really do.
Yesterday, I was fully confident in my writing. In fact, I didn’t really care what it looked like to others, because I was happy with it. That’s the most important thing, right? Ernest Hemingway said he rewrote the ending of A Farewell to Arms thirty-nine freaking times! It took him thirty-eight attempts before he finally got it to where he was happy with it.
Now, here I am today, in a full blown panic attack, wondering what the hell I am doing. I try to rack my brain of all the reasons I love writing; what pleasure I seem to get out of it… And you know what? All I keep coming around to is: My writing is crap. My stories are crap. I’m never going to be as good as *insert author or certain book*.
I’m not going to wrap this up by saying, “But we really shouldn’t compare our work, because blah blah blah.” Truth is, I know the reason: we’re all individuals with different minds, and that’s what makes our own writing so unique and beautiful.
I’m just going to say this: I will always instinctively compare my writing to someone else’s, especially if their writing blows me away (like good ole’ Lauren Oliver’s does). Not because I want to write like them, but because I am so intrigued and inspired by it. I want to navigate my storylines in a specific direction, and create flawed, wonderful, raw characters that make the readers feel and think just like I am while reading whichever book I happen to be reading that week.
So yeah, when I read a book as mesmerizing as Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver, I’m feeling slightly nauseated and like a total amateur, but I’m also feeling excited with a hint of euphoria, because once I’m finished with the whole thing, you can bet I’m going to study the hell out of it. That’s how we grow and become better writers, correct? We study others and apply it to our own.
Needless to say, here I sit at my computer typing away in silence (because I’m sick of listening to music right now; something that very rarely ever happens). I am drinking water (not coffee, because I think it would only add to my jitteriness). Those two hampers full of clean clothes are still sitting behind me. My list of homework is still incomplete. BUT, I’m feeling calmer than I was an hour ago about the whole my-writing-sucks-thing.
There really wasn’t a point in this blog, other than me rambling about my day so far. I still feel pretty blah. My brain is exhausted. I really want more hazelnut iced coffee, but my frantic heartbeat is a clear indication that refilling my cup probably isn’t the best idea. I suppose I’ll fold my stupid laundry now, or start on my mountain of homework.
Or watch Gilmore Girls (for the hundredth time).
Randi Garner 