We'll say 233 . . .ish.

I have yet again let time and committment elude me. I think it is a little funny that I do not manage to make an entry in this everyday. I used to be extremely devoted to my online journalings. However, I have been experiencing a journal writing drought not only electronically, but with my inkwell and scroll as well.

I could say it is because I have been busy. I could accredit my neglect to apathy. I could even invent an excuse involving alien abduction. However, all three of these are equally far from the truth. The reality is that I received an e-mail from the TCU English Department. The aforementioned e-mail included an invitation to enter TCU's Creative Writing Contest.

I thought this sounded utterly appealing so I decided I should enter. After looking over a few working drafts I already had in what could very loosely be considered "my portfolio", I decided that I find my writing poor and childish. I rarely read over my creative writing because I know I will find it insipid. I never let anyone else read it because I am worried they will agree. This is why I abandoned any dreams of being a writer because I fear criticism.

So I have been battling my own critical eye the past two weeks. The battle was so fierce that I stopped all writing (with the exception of academic, non-creative formats) so I could focus in on why I think I am so terrible. I still do not have an answer. The only quasi-answer I have formulated is . . . maybe I am not terrible. Perhaps I am simply a coward.

Then I remembered: I am a coward. I prefer maintaining the status quo to taking the risk that may cause me to fall flat on my face. This is a ridiculous way to live my life, especially in regards to something I am passionate about.

So come November 16th, I will be bold. I am going to submit some work and if it is terrible it will be terrific. I did win a poetry contest in 7th grade and my mom thinks I am a genius. Does this qualify me? Affirmative.