March 21


Some mountains feel achievable because you’ve already climbed something similar. When I look at how every scene I rewrite for Demon Arms is turning out @ 3 times longer, I keep getting hit with doubt. I’m not even halfway through and I’m over 127,000 words and I feel kind of sick inside. Because I’m familiar with a certain wordcount. I’m familiar with a certain response to my older works, aka, my moldy brain writing. This has been a huge source of concern for me as a writer, as a creator-just as a human being. I have regained my very broken brain back and I’m worried my writing is now alien to who I used to be.

I personally think it’s a positive change, but does what I like even fucking matter when I’m trying to make a living? Broken Sadie has been tested and tried and has a fanbase who loves those old stories. Can not so broken Sadie live up to that? It’s an unpleasant feeling, these uncertainties. The reality is, all I can do is forge forward and hope people like my new style and ultimately forgive me for not being capable of consistency. I have a feeling everyone else is far more forgiving on me than I am.

That is something familiar that I don’t enjoy; my history of kicking my own ass over pointless shit. My brain changed. I have no control over it. Keep creating, yeah? I have to stop looking backwards for reference to feel validated in what I’m doing now. I just need to be in now, okay with now, and let all that other shit go.