For whatever reason, I recently started thinking about what advice I would give to myself a decade ago if given the chance. Then I realized that was a stupid waste of time. First, because it’s a cliched exercise that only breeds cliched nuggets of meme-abley meaningless wisdom. Second, because I absolutely cannot, ever, give 21-year-old Natalie advice. She doesn’t exist. Finally, once you’ve written a book about a series your worst young adult decisions, you’ve pretty much exorcised those demons anyway.
Beyond cliché: the things we keep telling ourselves
Few things preoccupy a writer who produces a large quantity of material more than clichés. Some turns of phrase are so ingrained in our minds that when we use them to express ourselves we don’t even hear them. Sometimes, we honestly aren’t even sure if the phrase is our own, or a cliché we’ve heard in passing long ago. In those cases, thanks for existing, Google. You’re really helpful there.
What if I run out of things to write?
Because running out of things to say is usually the opposite of my primary issue, this fear should be irrational, but all the same, it is my greatest one. What if I run out of things to write about? What if I’m tapped out? What if that last thing I wrote was the very last thing of value that my brain had to offer?