As a writer, I don't suffer from any kind of angst. I've heard many writers say that writing is hard and painful and it makes me wonder why they write. I write because whenever I pass too close to a keyboard, words start spilling out of my fingers unprovoked and spreading themselves across the screen.
I've written three complete novels (one published under a pen name, one being considered by an agent, one still in the filing cabinet) and two halves. I've written more biographies of Rick Springfield than any one person should be able to make a career of. I've written entire websites covering complex areas of law.
Today, I'm writing something that is either a long short story or a short novella. It's futuristic. It contains no dialogue. It is, in short, entirely unlike any of the many varied things I've written before.
And I'm a little worried about it.
I know it sounds crazy for someone who has been writing since elementary school, but that's never happened to me before. I don't know what this thing I'm writing is, whether it has a genre, whether it's supposed to be dark and dense and more descriptive than active like this. It's almost as if I've found myself giving birth to something that doesn't quite seem like it's going to be a baby.
I keep writing it. But I'm afraid of it. I don't think that's ever happened before.