On August 21st, I turn in my novel manuscript to my writers' group for review on September 20th. I've resolved to be writing every day until I turn it in; I'd like to do a thousand words a day, (or draw a picture?) but I'm not in that gear yet. I spent time doing character background, finding out what teens can do in Vancouver in the summer. I ended up envying my characters.
If I can't write, such as if I have to do housework or I'm resting, I listen to an audiobook. Usually I use it to study the horror genre. Stephen King (of course), Dean R. Koontz, Joe Hill, Paul Tremblay, Laurell K. Hamilton and many others. For reasons unimportant now, I have a very thin reading background. I'm addressing that.
However, the most significant flaw I have, in writing and everything else, is an underconfidence. It's no ordinary, garden-variety dearth of assurance, but a self-destructive, self-abandoning vacuum of morale. This was caused by attention-deficit and anxiety problems in childhood that were never diagnosed and treated. Instead, my parents told me to try harder. The more I tried, the worse it got. They did the best they could when they had to care for a brother who was in every way more debilitated and disabled than I was.
After a two-year wait, I'm finally in a form of therapy that should help my troubles specifically. It already has.
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