Lexical density, Gunning Fog, Hard words and low self esteem – perils of writing

I haven’t posted much lately. Truthfully I haven’t written as much either. Having all kinds of problems with things sort of puts a dent in your hopes and wishes. Being low, usually means being insecure and being insecure leads to questioning and right now, seeing the progress bar of my work I see the lexical density, the gunning fog and hard word use etc and then I check what it means and i feel like I should just quit.

This makes Panda sad...

Progress of writing

 

 

I mean, how much more abuse should I put my self through, for something that will most likely never leave my own desk? Doubt, fear, anxiety, shame and feeling inadequate in all ways possible, are really not traits that will ease the procedures to actually even try to send any of this anywhere. Too many good authors and writers are failing already, why add to that pile? For the love of the craft? Seriously, it’s not a craft for me. It is escapism, the stories and vivid images invading my head and my mind that I tried to tell myself could be of interest to put down. Sort of a weird idea of documenting the return of creativity.

At first I was happy to have an outlet again. But outlet’s sometimes become too much and sitting here with text amassing to several books in length so far, and realizing that what it represents are simply hours most likely wasted. I even start several sentences with ‘And’ and that despite me learning early that only Stephen King gets away with that. So, should I simply give up? Or try to stick to my native language? Should I keep pushing, or should I simply keep this in the obscurity of my own head, and never ever mention a word of it ever again to anyone?

All these options have merits, and tomorrow I may look upon them in a differnt light. I fear though that for me, I will always come back to this, my own cross-road in my own hell. Standing there with the Deja Vu of my misery and low self esteem wondering which damn road at least won’t lead me back to that damned cross road. The obvious answer is to take the dead end way, but that one is not for me. Only the dark inside me suggest it, teases it and the finality of it bores me. I want so much more. I need something else, but right now, I’m stuck sitting at this cross-road again, not knowing where to turn or where my next step should take me.

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About bonyclarke

A simple guy who likes to write and make up stories and ideas. Anxiety, low self esteem and fascinated my most things considered nerdy.
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