I Have to Relearn to Write

So I'd figured the crappiness of my blog was the result of word-vomitting non-narrative subject matter. I've been telling myself this, but I think I have truly lost my inner creative writer. My writing is full of to-the-point literalness. When I sit down to write a story, I find myself telling and not showing. Tech writing has taken over my thought processes. I can write no more. I may have been this way for years now. Have I been in denial?

A couple weeks ago, I was working on my novel--the first time in a long time. I thought I was cutting the excess, but now I'm not so sure. My attempts at short fiction of late have been worse than bad. I should market them as a full-proof cure for insomnia. There is no poetry in my writing. Not the tiniest little bit. It's all just flat. This is untenable. If I can't write, I'm not sure who I am.

If you know me, you know I struggle with acne. It embarrasses me to the point that I absentmindedly scratch at it at work as if I can peel it off my face. I make it oh-so-much worse. Do you know that I find the idea of being a bad writer more loathsome than returning to the days of so much acne it hurt to move my face? Because I do.  I would rather put on extra pounds, and have a pizza face, and have my hair as thin and stringy as it was when I was a toe-headed tween.

I think this is the final straw. This is the thing what will motivate me to cancel my internet and return to the ways of my youth. I will read non-stop. I will imagine. I will draw. I will create. I need a new water color set.

My friend Kelsie has kindly offered to help me develop my poetic talents. Her writing has pizzazz. I trust she can build me up without crushing my spirit. I think it may actually be time to enroll in a creative writing class at the arts center too. I need forced writing.

Okay self-lameness, I'm throwing a punch. I hope you can take it.