Doubt
This evening I experience another bout of, what I can only describe, as stage-fright, self-doubt, utter worry that my work is not to the level that I want it, need it, to be at. I have been steadily working on various fiction pieces for the last few weeks, but this evening, when asked to read my work, I found myself stalling as much as possible. I am used to the work shopping process frequented by my degree, am used to sharing my work and often relish the feedback. But today I just couldn't handle it.
This has been a bizarre term. I constantly feel as though I am not working hard enough, that my degree is not demanding my attention, not asking for more from me. I don't know if it is due to the transition from English to Creative Writing which I am struggling with, or the transition into working heavily inside my own brain that I find the most disconcerting. I am writing about myself, my experience, there is no where to hide behind my degree. Everything I write has me in it. And someone will mark it, will mark me, my life and experiences, well, my conception of those experience into words, will be marked, graded and handed back to me. My degree will be calculated from a person grading me. Balls.
I have no idea if this is what is freaking me out, but this evening I took every opportunity to stall and not read my work aloud in class and I don't know why. I have liked my piece up until today. I really like the concept and I still do. But I feel like I haven't done enough, how do I go back and realis that a few weeks ago? It has been the weirdest term. I constantly feel like I am doing so much, surrounded by mountains of work, blogging, writing pieces for class, assignment research/ideas/writing, reading lists, reading inspiration which I manage. But somehow I am not doing enough. So my piece today, one person read it, told me they have issues with certain parts of it and now I am terrified. I cannot fail this. I cannot be failed on writing about me.
I need to sleep and I will assess it with fresh eyes tomorrow.
As always, still a soundtrack: Moose Blood
This has been a bizarre term. I constantly feel as though I am not working hard enough, that my degree is not demanding my attention, not asking for more from me. I don't know if it is due to the transition from English to Creative Writing which I am struggling with, or the transition into working heavily inside my own brain that I find the most disconcerting. I am writing about myself, my experience, there is no where to hide behind my degree. Everything I write has me in it. And someone will mark it, will mark me, my life and experiences, well, my conception of those experience into words, will be marked, graded and handed back to me. My degree will be calculated from a person grading me. Balls.
I have no idea if this is what is freaking me out, but this evening I took every opportunity to stall and not read my work aloud in class and I don't know why. I have liked my piece up until today. I really like the concept and I still do. But I feel like I haven't done enough, how do I go back and realis that a few weeks ago? It has been the weirdest term. I constantly feel like I am doing so much, surrounded by mountains of work, blogging, writing pieces for class, assignment research/ideas/writing, reading lists, reading inspiration which I manage. But somehow I am not doing enough. So my piece today, one person read it, told me they have issues with certain parts of it and now I am terrified. I cannot fail this. I cannot be failed on writing about me.
I need to sleep and I will assess it with fresh eyes tomorrow.
As always, still a soundtrack: Moose Blood
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