Holder of the Heel
Acolyte
New here, Figure I'd introduce my character.
When I was a kid, I wrote and drew and typed and scribbled... Constantly.
It was all a constant stream of horrific humor poured from a derivative bottle of video games I liked at the time with a dash of people I knew in real life including myself. So yeah, dreadful, but it was at least something.
As I got older I did improve a bit, shifting to a style of incessant action instead, with characters instead based on our dungeons and dragons campaign (baby steps I suppose). But as I grew older and older and became more cerebral with regards to the idea of telling an interesting story, my gears grinded to a halt. I could no longer finish anything that I started, let alone getting past the opening. Do I lack a genuine imagination, am I simply "not cut out for it"?
Fast forward over a decade and I now have an incredible collection of journals and word documents and printed pages stapled together and notepads and... not a single line of a genuine start. Boy do I have ideas, but I've learned much to my misery that this is not the same as having a proper vision, and as I've spent all these years staring at a blank document, I've become afraid that whatever creativity I had has decayed, while the insatiable, necrotic spirit to create still lingers behind my shoulder, ever gnawing.
I don't know what I want or need in material terms, but I do know one thing: I need to get this dusty cobwebbed ghoul off me before rigor mortis starts to kick in--if it is not already too late. So I may be seen around here, maybe not. I guess we shall see!
When I was a kid, I wrote and drew and typed and scribbled... Constantly.
It was all a constant stream of horrific humor poured from a derivative bottle of video games I liked at the time with a dash of people I knew in real life including myself. So yeah, dreadful, but it was at least something.
As I got older I did improve a bit, shifting to a style of incessant action instead, with characters instead based on our dungeons and dragons campaign (baby steps I suppose). But as I grew older and older and became more cerebral with regards to the idea of telling an interesting story, my gears grinded to a halt. I could no longer finish anything that I started, let alone getting past the opening. Do I lack a genuine imagination, am I simply "not cut out for it"?
Fast forward over a decade and I now have an incredible collection of journals and word documents and printed pages stapled together and notepads and... not a single line of a genuine start. Boy do I have ideas, but I've learned much to my misery that this is not the same as having a proper vision, and as I've spent all these years staring at a blank document, I've become afraid that whatever creativity I had has decayed, while the insatiable, necrotic spirit to create still lingers behind my shoulder, ever gnawing.
I don't know what I want or need in material terms, but I do know one thing: I need to get this dusty cobwebbed ghoul off me before rigor mortis starts to kick in--if it is not already too late. So I may be seen around here, maybe not. I guess we shall see!