The B-word

I think this is it. The dreaded thing that happens. I cannot write a word. I have been thinking about Young Gods a lot recently, and about Adam too. But the thinking has been very abstract, in the 'I really need to write' sense.

After I read On Writing, I felt super-inspired. No, seriously, I did. Because Stephen King made it sound like all writers struggle to write, and I told myself that it was OK to be a little slow. But, as the days and weeks with no writing has passed, I am starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I am just pretending to want to write, because I don't know anything else.

That is a lie too, because I do have a career completely unrelated to writing.

But, for as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a writer, and maybe it has been such a long time, that my fiber doesn't know what else I could possibly want to be.

Watching the Christopher Paolini video on Amazon didn't help either. Here is this young guy, who had mapped out a complete trilogy by the time he was 15. What's more is that he actually wrote it and got it published.

Am I reaching my expiry date as a writer?

I am sure I remember that in The World According to Garp, Garp felt that he wrote his best work when he was older, because he had gained more life-knowledge (or something similar), and that always consoled me. But maybe, because I have been so caught up in the living, I left my ability to write and innovate behind?

Or maybe I am so afraid of those rejection letters, that I would rather bury the dream for a little while longer and continue living in my little bubble, where I can continue donning the suit and humming the tune without really having to be the hero.