I used to consider myself a writer. That was one of the things I was pretty good at. I wrote my first "novel" in 2nd grade and completed my auto-biography in 3rd grade. I wrote puppet shows and plays and histories of this and that - blahblahblah....I took independent study writing classes throughout high school and was pretty proud of my compilations of work. But then I dated a writer. I dated a writer for a loooooong time and it seemed that there was only room enough for one writer in the house at a time, and it wasn't me. And then something happened...my writing esteem disappeared. I don't know if it just evaporated at once or if it was slowly chipped away but it's gone.
So now for work I am writing again. I'm writing a script which I will direct. It's just a short - maybe 10-15 pages and will be maybe....10-12 minutes once it's shot/edited but I'm stressed about it. I had a deadline almost 2 weeks ago which I totally blew because my brain just wouldn't let me finish it. Granted my "writing time" is pretty limited and with a non-napping baby in the house it's a little hard. "I'll write after she goes to bed!" hahahahaha...um that's when I want to go to bed. Anyway - it's not even that hard of an assignment. I'm adapting a story - not even writing it from scratch out of my head. AND it's a story I've had with me for many many years.
But I finished it this morning. I finished it and sent the rough draft off to my partner to see if it'll fly, to get some feedback and to see how to make it better/move forward. Ugh. It still just feels like crap though. That kind of makes me sad.