To put you into context. For more than a year, I haven't written anything that I feel, shows what I'm capable of as a writer. Pathetic as it may sound, I feel like I've already peaked as a writer at the age of 20 when I became a fellow at the Heights workshop in Ateneo and I can't seem to find my voice anymore. My peers are pulling ahead, winning various national awards and more importantly, writing very impressive works. I, on the otherhand, just started writing a blog. I just started writing this blog.
In the last year, I've had ideas for stories, I've jotted them down on scratch paper and keyed them into my cell phone, typed them into a word file that never seems to go beyond page one. And now that the pressure is on to write again and hopefully finish my last year of college with a boom, I find myself resorting to compiling these bits and pieces of story and trying to write them as one. So far, the result is turning into some creature that I never meant to write at all, but more than that, I'm worried about how easily I was able to stitch all these different characters into one without coming up with some kind of contradition in their personality and traits.
I've come to the conclusion that they're not far enough away from my own personality to be characters in themselves. This leads me to two possible conclusions, either I'm a narcissit who thinks that people would find my own life so interesting that they'd read about it or I'm just plain boring. I have no good ideas. I might as well give up or worse, I've already given up.
To be continued...
