‘I saw your post on FB about those people who got busted with $70K and heroin. You should be careful. People like that are dangerous. You never know.’
My Dad said this to me yesterday about a post I made about a couple, that I don’t know, who got busted in my town. The horrifying comment I made was this, ‘My town. Classy. Also, check out the dude’s shirt’. He got busted while wearing a Breaking Bad fleece. I find that hilarious. Anyhow, the point of this is; my Dad thinks that these people are going to track me down and do something horrible to me. In other words; watch what you say, there could be consequences.
I’m tired. I’m very very tired of being afraid to write. You may think, from my previous posts, and certainly if you know me in real life, that I don’t give a shit. I do. I give many shits. I am nearly paralyzed with fear writing every post. This one makes me feel like throwing up.
My family has always been very supportive of my writing, as long as I don’t say anything personal, or anything that could get me into trouble, or anything that could be controversial. I am an excellent reporter, I am an excellent essayist. If anything gets into sharing feelings or non-funny anecdotes, or anything that might be controversial, forget it.
There have been numerous times in my life, my earlier life, when I got in so much trouble for my writing it actually changed the course of my life. Time and time again, I learned that writing = punishment. You’d think that I would have just stopped. I can’t. Maybe I’m a masochist. Writing is what I have wanted to do since I was in the 2nd grade.
Lately I have come up against a creative block unlike anything I’ve been through before. I’m scared of it. I simultaneously feel like I’m backed up against a wall and at the edge of a bottomless pit. It’s the fear. I have the fear. It’s not a fear of success, it’s not a fear of failure, it’s fear of being punished for what I have to say. Let’s face it, with the way the internet is, it’s a very real possibility. But, here’s the other thing, if I don’t let go, if I don’t start writing some real shit, I’m all done as a writer. I will never be able to write a good memoir, or a really gruesome horror story, or a super steamy sex scene.
The boat is going down, but I still have a couple seconds to put on the survival suit, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.