WAIT HOW COME I WANT TO BE A WRITER BUT EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT WRITING I MENTALLY VOMIT?
Good question! Here’s my hypothesis:
I sometimes get so scared of failure that I can’t even begin. Why should I start to write a play if I know its going to be bad?
Recently I’ve been talking to some of my fellow playwriting friends and they face a similar issue. Kyra, a friend of mine (and also a girl in this class *holler*) told me that sometimes, you just have to write the bad version. And she’s right. I should only be afraid of being cheesy, once I am cheesy. Or afraid of being too literal once I am too literal.
It’s like this irrational fear that I’ve had my whole life–I’ve always been afraid of aging. I’ve always been afraid of being in my 50’s, and not knowing what that means. But deep down I know that I shouldn’t worry about being middle-aged until I know what its like to be middle-aged. It may be awesome! I might have money then! I could get massages! But worrying about what I’ll look like, or feel like, or if I’ll be miserable or happy or dead or what, is not useful to me. It’s wasting my precious youth.
And worrying about a play sucking is wasting time that I have to ACTUALLY WRITE THE DAMN THING. Just do it, Molly!!
Fear is a monster. It will murder you–it will walk right up to you and call you fat, and steal your lunch money and pummel your guts and shove you in a locker and feed you candy to fatten you up and then toss you into the oven and eat you.
And it will make you think that your Instagram likes matter, and your real life friends don’t, and that winning a beer-chugging contest makes you friends and that dumbing yourself down makes you hot.
And it will make you feel lonely and stupid. It will tell you that you shouldn’t even bother because you’re not good at anything, and then it will eat you.
So let’s eat fear back!