A Way With Words

Sometimes I hate when people say I have a “way with words”. What about the times I don’t feel that way? When the words don’t just flow across the page, spilling scenes like watercolor on paper? I hate when I have a beautiful idea and it’s going so well and then it’s not. And then I see someone else’s stories and feel inferior, and I’m not good enough. For example as soon as I respond to a prompt, everyone else’s is longer and more creative somehow, even if I liked mine a moment beforehand. If I have a way with words, how come I can never think something of mine is good enough? Honestly, how can I even come up with something when everyone else’s is better? I LOVE the feeling of spiraling with one of my closest friends down a loophole for hours, coming up with insanely complex storylines and worlds more than anything. Spending hours laying in bed, watching my stories like a movie inside my head. So WHY, as soon as I feel like I’m accomplishing something and going somewhere, does my stupid internal critic (he’s become so prominent I named him Steve) have to go and push the brakes and pull up a wall of a lack of motivation? As soon as I’m determined to try and actually write this one this time, why can’t I see it through? Why can’t I just have ONE story I can write without struggling and just thoroughly enjoy the writing process again? Why do I have to compare it to others stories, why can’t I just be happy with what I have? Why aren’t I satisfied with the stories I come up with on my own, without having to rely on someone to gather me out of the stupid rut I’ve worked myself into?!

Why, oh why, can’t I have a way with words in a way I like?

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