Anxiety is a bitch. I have a longish story in mind that I am quite excited by. I’m eager to get started and I have done all the prep work from doing the research needed all the way up to writing the outline. This story is ready to roll and yet I sit here this morning afraid to type the first word.
What is maddening about social anxiety is that it is documented to get worse as you get older. What was easy for me to do five years ago suddenly becomes hard today. Where as normally experience makes something easier to do with repetition, anxiety acts as a sort of entropy that takes backs the progress I make. Four years ago when I wrote Cell Phone Slave, I was four chapters in before I started to worry about how it will be received. This morning I find myself quantum leaping back and forth in the beginning of the story trying to find the ideal place to start. Do I start with the plane ride? Do I start at the house? Do I start a week earlier when Cassie lies to her parents? They all seem valid and equally wrong.
It really makes me appreciate how everything I write is a minor miracle. I’ve been able to create stories that mean a lot to me, share them with total strangers and then take in the praise with the flames. I have the worse time complimenting a pretty stranger but somehow I can share my pirate fetish with the entire world. That seems so contradictory but I don’t want to analyze it too much. I’m just grateful I can keep writing for the time being.
It may seem off topic, but times like these are when I really doubt I can be a dom in a relationship. I feel completely out of control right now and the fact that I can’t bring myself to start a story makes me wonder how the fuck I could ever be the strength that a submissive anchors herself to when she is embarking on her own scary adventure. I feel like I need a nurse or a baby-sitter and it is becoming increasingly clear to me that this kind of situation would be one fucked up power dynamic.
I have nothing to end this post on except the irony that blogging that I am too anxious to write is less scary than actually writing.