Stage Fright
Now, I’m not one to use LJ for winging - in fact, I’m not one to use LJ much at all these days (and don’t think this post was written due to the latest spate of ‘nudges’, people. You know who you are :-P ) - but back to the point, I’ve been suffering close to three months of writer’s block. I haven’t written barely a thing since I made my wordcount last November, and what I do write I loathe. And it’s not just limited to writing either - I had a go at writing music once more the other week, and the results were so utterly shithouse I’m frightened to try again. I can’t even bring myself to pick up my clarinet anymore, I’m so ashamed of how bad I am now.
This morning, I volunteered as a role-player for the Detective Training School down at the academy. It was great. I haven’t done any sort of acting since my performance last December, and although I was playing a rape victim, and by the end of each scenario I was feeling physically sick (just playing it was hard enough - I never, ever, ever want to be in that situation for real), overall, I had a good day. It made me realise how much I missed acting. And it was fun, I got to meet a whole heap of new people from all sorts of areas and backgrounds, got to see how detectives work and got a tip off on how to get a job in the Crime Department as an analyst (my contract comes up in June and I don’t want to be moved somewhere boring). Despite the early start (7am is an unholy hour to be starting work), I came home from today’s jaunt in a pretty good mood.
So I started working on my script I’ve been working on for the Short and Sweet Festival when I got home (my boss let me take the rest of the day off work) and it’s now done, slightly proof-read, and as I was reading it on the screen one last time, I actually thought it was sounding pretty good. I printed it out, intending to take it around to an actor-writer acquaintance of mine to get his opinion, and as soon as I have the hard copy printed out it changes. It’s crap. I can’t show it to anyone - it’s too grim, there is way too much swearing in it, it seems too lurid, too violent, too heavy. No one’s going to want to read or watch that. And god knows how people’s regard of me would change if they did! I keep thinking of the final product, and what friends, family, co-workers, strangers might say to me after a performance or a reading, and even worse than what they’d say, how they might look at me. Maybe if I could be normal and write typical witty little pieces, laugh-out-loud comedy or likable human-interest type dramas, I wouldn’t have such a problem. Maybe if I was more political, wrote with a fierce agenda on topical, emotive issues, I would be fine (quickly dated, but fine). And I don’t think it’s the effect of where I work - I hardly think if I was suddenly plucked from the HoD (House of Death) and placed in a cheerful, bubbly office full of girly types, I would suddenly be writing fluffy chick lit overnight.
So if this is the way I am - who I am - why am I so ashamed of it? I know that ultimately all of this is ridiculous, and it’s all a matter of attitude, but after three months I am really starting to feel despondent. I am now starting to see the value of having a mentor - my previous opinion (pig-headed as usual) was that if you needed a mentor, you probably didn’t have the internal strength to succeed, but I know that’s bullshit. What I would really love is someone - anyone - who knows their stuff to take a look at what I’m doing, be it my Short & Sweet script, my 2nd draft of my NaNoWriMo novel (which has long since grounded to a halt), or my acting and say “hey, you’re on the right track, you’re doing really well, but your weak spots are here, here and here. Work on those and you’ll be brilliant”. But as an almost staunchly isolated individual, where am I going to find someone like that? And why must I be filling up this post with useless rhetoric? Is there an end in sight?!? (evidently not).
I’m hoping this is just something that will pass. I’m hoping it’s not all the shit currently in my life starting to wear me down. I’m hoping things will pick up soon and I can actually start working seriously on something again, because that’s the only time I’m ever truly happy.