Writing. And writing about writing.

I'm trying to avoid some horrible, sophomoric effort here(concerning my fanfic). I'm not good at expressing feelings. I've had to hide my true feelings all my life. No matter what they were, with my family my feelings were always wrong. I shouldn't be happy, shouldn't be sad, shouldn't be upset, shouldn't be mad. Be one way with my family and another with my friends. And even with my friends I wasn't truly myself. Putting up a false front of pretense most of the time, trying to portray myself as mentally tough and sometimes cold, when in reality I was nothing more than a walking, talking entanglement of fear and insecurity. And hypersensitive. Using sarcasm and jokes as a defense. I've often been described as a brooding, artist type. And why would I possibly be brooding?

Dammit! Always! She keeps interrupting me. Any time I have some creativity going it is always interrupted! She had me trapped in my bathroom while I was having great creative thoughts and if I didn't write them down they'd be lost. So I had to resort to writing them down on a piece of toilet paper with my lip liner while she yammered on and on with her banal nonsense. GAH!

Okay, back to why I was brooding. I was brooding because every day I had to deal with the internal conflict I had. On one hand, everyone thought I was some great genius, this great intellect, but inside I knew the truth. I wasn't this super genius. I felt like a moron. Inept. A fraud. I knew that I wasn't perfect or the smartest one in the room. And why did I feel this way? Well, mommy dearest, of course. She was always presenting me to everyone as some great genius. I was THE. BEST. EVAR. THE. SMARTEST. EVAR. Always telling me how I was smarter than all the other kids. How everything I did was better than the other kids. How the hell could I possibly live up to this? I was supposed to be the best at everything but there were kids who were better at some things than I was. I knew that I wasn't The Best and The Smartest and I always had to face her criticisms on everything when I didn't live up to her impossibly high standards. She constantly criticized my every mistake to the point where I no longer wanted to do anything. It's still that way when I'm around her. She's the ultimate motivation killer.

Anyway, back to the business at hand. I've always had these high standards to live up to. It's hard not to be hard on myself. I'm writing a fanfic for my own enjoyment, but I don't want it to suck. I can write really well if need be. I am actually good at most things. I want my writing to be good. I haven't had much practice in expressing my feelings. I think I write decent dialogue, but is it realistic? I need more practice on describing scenes. (I'm not so good at that. I'm a 'cut to the chase' sort of person. I like my information in bullet points. I don't like beating around the bush with things. Just get to the point already! That's not always so good with fiction writing.)

Since I haven't had much practice in writing certain things, I decided to consult a book that I had read years ago, that, if I recalled correctly, was beautifully written and had won some award. Well, I looked through it. Hell, with a little practice I could do that! I just need to work on writing more detailed descriptions.

This post is funny. I would never keep a diary because some nosy person would definitely read it. But on the computer? The internet? That's kryptonite for her. It's funny that I'll put my feelings out for all the world to read, just as long as one person in particular doesn't see them.