What does come pouring out of my pen is heavy-handed and rambly, like the creative bastard child of Patti Smith and Bono, both of whom somehow make it work, though this is just too accidentally pretentious.
I don't know why this is such a struggle, because I know I'm not a total failure at writing, but something about the sharing process, the creative process, makes me choke. I took a creative writing class a couple years ago in an attempt to get writing and dropped out halfway through. I just couldn't come up with anything when I needed to that I felt confident enough about.
I know I am my own worst critic. I know he'll say that anything I do is fine because he's too shy to share his scribblings. I don't know why this is because I've blogged for 10 years and even have a piece that's been published, so what the heck? What's wrong with me? I used to wonder why it took so long for bands to put out records, or also how some come up with them in 6 months. It's taken us 6 months to even come up with a bunch of skeletal little parts that need to be worked into songs. I feel like I have all these embryos and no children.