There was certainly a whole lot of trouble I ended up getting myself into with the internet in 2009, but that’s a completely different story. As I explored the social elements of the web as a grown-up, because I really did think I was one, there was something so freeing about these websites- I could be anyone I wanted to be, say whatever I wanted to say, and at the time, cyberbullying hadn’t really taken off. Needless to say, I had the confidence to say and write whatever I wanted, acting as if every word I typed out was gold. LiveJournal, I used to write quippy remarks and musings about life, because a twelve-year-old has a lot of wise things to say. On MySpace, I would update my status, doing my best to be sexy and mysterious, posting selfies of me with my shaggy razor-cut side-swept bangs over my eyes while biting my lip. Booksie, a site some are not too familiar with, was (and still is) dedicated to people’s unpublished writing. It had formats for posting poems, novellas, novels, and essays. My favorite part about it was that people would write and publish chapters of their novels every week, and you could flock to the comment section to theorize what would come next, almost like watching a TV show every week. I think this is the only website I used that held any essence of who I really was, and was my biggest creative outlet at the time. Of course, that’s if you don’t count the All Time Low fan-fiction my friends and I were writing on those yellow legal pads.

Subscribe now

There, I wrote a few poems, but mostly short stories or novellas. Twilight had just become a huge phenomenon, so emo boys and vampires were always on my mind. There would always be a sad girl in high school who was lonely, was probably suicidal, and was finally saved when she was given attention by the cool, emo boy who was sometimes a vampire. In one of the stories, I think she did end up killing herself. Because these were the things going on in my brain at twelve years old, and I also thought I was going to be the next hottest YA author.

My profile is still up, actually. I hadn’t thought about it in years, did a quick Google search, and there it was. My username was paranoia1996, which is honestly kind of a cool, edgy username for a middle schooler.

I don’t think I have to say it, but my writing was bad, really bad. The kind of bad that makes me almost embarrassed, but then I remember that I’m now almost thirty and it’s very silly to still feel embarrassed about my fiction writing from when I was twelve. But the really spectacular thing was that I truly did not care what people thought about my writing, because I was having the most fun writing it. I was creating characters in my head, making mood boards, and well, honestly exploring the same narrative over and over again. I had even found a community. These weren’t people I ever got to actually know or people I talked to, but I had “fans”. Girls who were probably the same age as me, reading my emo romance slop, and would leave comments on every chapter I would post, excited for the next one. This gave me so much confidence as a writer. So much so that I guess I stopped writing after that until my adulthood.

Writing has started to give me a lot of anxiety. Because once I found my way back to it, I decided I wanted to really do it and be good at it. Then I started screenwriting, and that became my focus, and it’s something I really love doing. But as an actual grown-up who has the same crazy dreams of being a real writer and pursuing a career, there are a million little things you think about all the time that can stop you from writing. No matter what I’m doing, there is always this little nagging in the back of my head that says, "You should be writing right now”. And like a child, when someone tells me I need to do something, even if it’s my own subconscious, I don’t want to do it. You’ve only written 50 pages for your feature. You haven’t edited that script you wrote two weeks ago. How are you going to be anyone or anything if you haven’t actually written anything?

I wish to write like a child with total abandon, simply for the love of the game, and without worrying about how many pages I should be hammering out, what contests or grants I want to submit to, or what my next deadline is. Unfortunately, these are all things that I have to think about in some capacity, but how does one break through the noise and just write? I do not currently have the answer, but I do think there are definitely some steps to be taken that, unfortunately, will most likely help. I really do think that social media and our damn phones are a big part of this mental block.

While it’s fun to see what people are up to, and see what someone’s creative writing process is like on TikTok, hearing about the screenplay someone just finished, and following someone’s “journey” through making a film, I really do think consuming so much of that kind of content can really hinder you as a creative. With the idea of trying to get inspired to write, you’re really just watching someone on your phone doing what you want to do, and thus, in a weird way, it becomes disheartening and less appealing. Because I don’t feel like I can be the people I see on my phone, and I don’t think I can reach the level of success they have, or at least say they have. There’s a nasty cycle of comparison, which is why social media is kind of the death of joy, because, as you know, comparison is the thief of joy. My writing process would be so much better if I had no access to the internet, no access to my phone, and were alone with my thoughts. Being alone with my thoughts is kind of my nightmare, but I have a feeling it’s going to be the only way out. Am I getting rid of my phone? No. Am I going to cut off my internet access? Probably not, I’m also trying to get a degree. However, it’s something I’ll deeply consider moving forward. Maybe I’ll rent a cabin in the woods and stick myself in there for a week or two. Wouldn’t that be nice?