Sometimes I find it hard being married to a man who is a much better writer than I am. I've be so overly critical of everything I put to the page that a new neurosis has formed to join the abundance of others I have. I will type out a sentence and then re-read it over and over to see how I can make it better. This is a no-no. "Let it flow. Don't look back. Feel the moment and write it down." Advice from my college creative writing professor. Advice I have yet to take...even now as I write this. I've re-read these few sentences numerous times already. Looking for...what? I don't know exactly. I know what I don't look for when I re-read. I don't look back to make sure my gramatics and syntax or even my spelling is correct. I gave up on those things long ago. (Actually I just caught myself spell checking what I have written. Check that of the list of what I don't look back for.) I suppose look back to make sure that what I am writing will be of the most possible interest to anyone reading my words. In doing so I tend to be overly wordy, a puking of words so to speak, that are completely unnecessary but without those words I wouldn't really have much to say at all.
Wow, have I digressed from my first sentence. Let me try to bring it back around. My husband is a phenomenal writer...among other things. Writing comes to him with such ease. The way he writes, the things he writes about, are all so captivating and engaging. I envy him and a little bit of me admittedly hates him for his creativeness. Just a small part of me...not the important parts mind you. Just the bit that resides in the back of my brain that whispers ugly insults at myself for not being better at one of the things I love to do. The bit that holds me back for fear that I will never compare to his abilites so why even bother trying at all. The dark bit that I mostly try to ignore but which festers just on the edge of my conciousness, waiting to get it's grips in and turn me into an angy blubbering mess of words that spill onto the screen haphazardly like this.