My Writing is Crap

It happens more often than I would like it to. I read something I just wrote and, after a short internal deliberation, I realize it is pure garbage, waste, so craptastically bad I have to erase it before it finds its way into the world.

Sometimes it’s just a sentence. Others, it’s a paragraph. Once in a while it is everything I have been working on for the last week, month, year, or my entire life. Catastrophic, yes. But no less the reality of where my mind wanders when I am trying to put my thoughts on paper, attempting to create art from the blood of my experience and, on second glance, realize it’s just vomit from the crud I have been chewing on for far too long.

The point is, it happens, and it’s going to happen again, and every time Bob Dylan comes on my playlist when I am attempting to write something eloquent I realize I don’t have a chance. I’ll never compare.

But I do it anyway. The realization, in actuality, can be quite freeing. If it’s crap, then what do I have to worry about. I can just keep going knowing there is no standard that I need to achieve, save the expression itself.

And, once I begin expressing before, I am reminded that people hate Dylan. Lots of them do. In fact, I bet if you asked him, he would say that some of his stuff is crap least the early stuff.

But he kept writing anyway. And so will I.

Because, as I think about it. The only times my writing stops is when I am paralyzed by the idea that I need to be perfect, that the writing it not worth it if it doesn’t meet some imaginary mark, that because I am not there yet must surely mean I’ll never get there.

And that’s all crap. Just like my writing. So I’ll keep going…as soon as I review that last sentence.

Published by Brian Fretwell

Author, TEDx Speaker, Consultant Trying not to be a horrible human

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