May 31st
An Exercise in Mediocrity
Yesterday I attempted to write something. The same goes for various other days before now. But when I sit down to write, I type several keystrokes and wind up at a dead end. I’m too picky, and I don’t want to publish something that isn’t worth your while to read.
This happens to me often, and in other areas besides writing. I find I can’t say what is on my mind. I find that I have enormous difficulty with any artistic expression at all. My mind is profusely full of, well, everything, but all the everything is stuck on the inside of my brain and seems to be resolved to stay where it is.
Take now for instance. I’m not very far away from giving up this post and moving on to other things. “After all,” I think to myself, “It isn’t an earth-shattering thesis and doesn’t have anything particularly revolutionary in it. It won’t rival the prose of any of your favorite authors. What’s the point?”
Ah yes, what is the point? Is all of this just an exercise in mediocrity? I wish to attain great creative heights, to excel at what I do (I admit, that sounds lofty and slightly pretentious). Instead I find that most of what I create is squarely and profoundly… average.
Maybe I’m just trying too hard.
But what scares me is that I might not be trying hard enough.