Never ending hang nail

Something happened to me as a writer a few years ago. Something that destroyed my authenticity, flair and rawness as an honest human being. Something that completely rocked my world and caused a lot of turmoil in my life.

I started giving a fuck about what I was writing. I started caring what other people thought of what I was writing. So I started writing the way I thought I 28-year-old mother and wife should write. Coincidently, my writing suffered. Suffered? I mean it SUCKED. It wasn’t me. Well, it was me but it was the me I thought people wanted me to be.

I started blocking the stream of rawness that poured from my head, into my heart, down into my fingertips where I typed it out.

It sucked.

I’ve been enduring a 2 year writers block. Now I have a lot to say.

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by reuben on September 2, 2011 at 9:17 pm

    Nice to have you back!

    Reply

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