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There’s a feeling inside me that isn’t translating into the stories that I have promised to my teachers for my creative projects. It’s the undertone to “Without You I’m Nothing” by Placebo and Bowie, and “Hollywood’s Not America” by Ferras. I don’t know what it means. There’s a story building in me, in the smooth edges that I’m hardscrabbling against, trying to climb to the destinations that I need to reach. And my nails are squealing, my knees are sliding, and I”m back on the ground, elbows buzzing pain up to my teeth.

I’ve asked for advice, talked it out with all parties, but in the end this problem is one I have to solve. It’s the same place I was standing in May 2005: do you want to be a professional writer, then you’d best write a novel. And do it quickly. If you can’t, then you need to find a new career.

And I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I did. I yoyo-ed to the finishline between tears and grit teeth and heart soaring excitement.

I realize I’m facing that same point. But unlike before, I’m not sure what goal is going to make it happen for me.

I feel like I’m swallowing anxiety. And it’s putting a tickle through my asophogus to my stomach.

And a part of me watches music videos and asks myself, is the answer just taking my laptop and my savings, and traveling cross country, and just having an adventure. And if so, can I rent a van and bring at least five friends?

But this is not an answer. Not now,not before I finish the degree. I am not a quitter, and my destiny put me in this place for a reason. I know because I fought for it.

I am standing against the wall again. I need a newer, more obscene goal to strive for. The short story/week sounds like a good one, but is it the right one? Should I write a novel instead?

Either way, I need to write what I have said I will write, even though I am riddled with doubt about myself and my skills. These are the doubts I can’t force past my lips even when I try. Even when I want to.

This is the wall. And if I want what I want, then I will get past it, through it, or over it somehow.