Having sat down today to concentrate on writing, reading and generally trying to focus (particularly on my short story) I was depressed to find a lack of... Substance? It seems like so often, I saturate myself in the masses of resources around me (books/articles to read, films to watch etc. etc.) and it's sending me into a downward spiral of awe which I can never compare myself to. It's going to take a lot of time, effort and thought to be able to produce any sort of original piece of text which I can actually take some pride in. Unfortunately I only have until January. It must seem so ungrateful to blame the work of others for my lack of progress, but really, I think it's more a sign of being afraid of failing to meet my own criteria, which I tend to tie up in the ones I respect.
I promise I'm trying, and I'll keep trying until I get it right.
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