I have been tasked with coming up with a final script for our trailer, and I am determined to give it my all this time, and that means powering through all the bullshit clogging my brain and making it hard to think about it because there’s all these emotions in the way.

Emotions that make it impossible to go forward because they force me into a state of indecision. It’s like my brain is locked into immobility like a seized engine, and gunning the engine will only end up grinding your engine to pieces.

So hit it, emotions!

The important one is pressure. I am beginning to learn that I can only handle pressure by completely ignoring it and approaching things as challenges that will help me grow, not burdens that will break me down.

When I think about the fact that all these people are depending on me, I feel intense panic. Perhaps when I am more seasoned a writer, I will confident enough to just shrug that off and say “No problem. Bring it on!”.

But I’m not there yet.

I don’t want this panicking to be my reaction. It makes me feel weak and foolish. I want to regain the crazy self confidence I had not that long ago where I was determined to conquer the world with my crazy strong writing skills and full of vitality and ambition.

I mean seriously. WTF happened to that guy?

I just have to keep telling myself that the nervous rabbit freaking out part of me is not the real me. That just a temporary mask I wear until I heal enough to take it off.

The real me is the guy who relishes challenges and attacks each problem with vigor and the awe inspiring power of his gigantic brain.

I know I can write this thing and make it kickass. My bare bones version was OK. But it had none of my signature pizzazz and comedy sizzle. I want it to be 60 to 120 seconds of solid entertainment. I want it to spread because it’s funny and funny travels.

I know I can do it. I have the talent and the ability and the training. All I need is to generate the pulling power to pull the cork out of the bottle with my creative juices in it, and let things flow. I know I can make it happen!

Well, that made me feel a little better. What else?

I feel like there’s a lot of threshold anxiety involved as well. As the name implies, threshold anxiety happens when someone is afraid to cross that threshold from one situation to another.. This is especially prevalent when the transition is to a “bigger” state of being. like moving from your small town to the big city, or finally telling the person you are dating that you love them.

It’s a transition to a state with far more variables, most of which are unknowns, and it is easy to fall into the trap of eternal “not yet”. Well then…. when?

And what is worse is that your sneaky little metaconscious mind knows that if you keep putting the transition off, the problem will go away. It will go away because you have tragically and irrevocably let people down, given up on yourself, and chosen the safe and familiar terribleness over the new and challenging improvement.

But you feel safe and calm now in your fetid little hidey hole, and you have successfully pushed everything else out of your mind by diving deep into your distractions, and so everything is OK.

Actually, it’s awful. The boat is both on fire and sinking. But you’ve locked your cabin door and turned the radio on really loud so you don’t hear the screams and get back to reading this really good novel you’ve been reading, and then you pretend that everything is just fine and whatever problems are out there will go away on their own.

And then, when you’re floating in the icy North Atlantic, your last thought before you slip beneath the waves tio an icy tomb is “Why do these thing keep happening to ME?”.

Hmmm. Kind got off on a rant against myself. That’s new.

At some point, if I don’t clear the creative clog, I am going to have to write the damned thing through sheer force of will. Drag myself over the miles like a child carrying a bag that is too big for it so they have to push it along.

I don’t want it to come to that. For one thing, it will hurt like a bitch. I would much rather reach deep down and find that spark of feisty fire that acts as the pilot light to the propane oven that is my soul.

Great, now I am nostalgic and homesick.

And if that feisty fairy magic doesn’t work, there’s always rage. Fuck my limitations. Fuck the supposed limits. Fuck indecision and especially fuck fear. I will batter down the gates of heaven to get what I want. I will stir the seas till they rain like a thousand storms down on the cities of the world if I don’t get what I want. I will take a sledgehammer to every part of me that gets in the way of my ambition.

And then I’ll get REALLY MAD.

I think I am getting there. I am getting to the point where I will be willing an d ready to go forth and write the shit out of that thing. I am itching to evolve. I want to leave the wimpy scaredy fragile me behind in the dirt and stride forward with a confidence stride and my head held high because I am awesome.

And that remains true no matter how many times I fuck up in humiliating ways. Fuck that. I am going to make content so fresh and new and powerful that it changes how people look at art forever.

And get rich in the process!

I will talk to you nice people tomorrow.