I call myself a writer. I plan
on spending the rest of my life in a writing intesive field. So, I
should be writing. I stuggle with my perfectionist nature. The fear of failing to capture someone completely with words prevents me from writing about them, masquerading as writer’s block. I edit my thoughts before they ever hit the paper. I love my chosen major of Journalism, but I hate how I can’t remember the last time I wrote because I wanted to. One of my New Year resolutions is to stop this self-censorship and just write. Even if it sounds dumb. Embrace the idea of “write drunk, edit sober”, which may or may not have been written by Earnest Hemingway, and get words on paper. Wish me luck.