It's probably been months since I wrote anything of significance. Aside from the occasional longish Facebook post, all I ever do is sit around thinking about wanting to be a writer. And somehow I think that I'll just magically become one some day without actually putting in any effort. Like it's a switch that just get's flipped and suddenly you have your voice and a style that is uniquely yours.
This is a nasty trick of psychology. Our brain works in stories we tell ourselves. Stories about the past, present, and future - most of which are pure fantasy. The funny part is, the more you tell yourself a particular story, the more more blurred the line becomes between make believe and reality. If I tell myself twenty times a day that I'm untalented and unmotivated and have little evidence to the contrary, how long do you think it will take for my words to become gospel?
My brain has felt lethargic and dense lately, like I'm constantly pushing through a murky fog to get back to myself. My theory is that this has happened because I plug myself into video games for so many hours a day and utilize the creative areas of my brain so little that in a small way they've begun to atrophy. I don't think any of this is permanent, but I'm amazed at how powerful the urge is to shut myself off and play for entire days sometimes without working toward what it truly important to me. It's an almost constant battle. I can't tell you how many times I've made a deal with myself to not play for a day, only to cave within the first hour of being awake. Hell, I'm thinking about it write now.
What I have a hard time understanding is why I push this all away when I really do enjoy writing. I enjoy learning new things. I love creating something from nothing - the act of discovery that comes from building characters and worlds that exist nowhere but inside your own head. I want to write for video games. I want to voice their characters. I want to make people laugh and cry and discuss how my games make them feel. And yet, here I sit. Motionless on my couch. Dreaming of some life that seems impossible to attain. That's just another lie though. It's possible.
All I need to do is try.