Challenge Journal 2; Or, Flick Will Never Not Suck At Titles

I wrote my first challenge journal about not knowing how to start my pieces. I stand by that as being the place I struggle the most. I am so deep in that mud right now it’s not even funny. I’m still incredibly lost but I have some direction and I think that more than anything else I’m scared.

I had absolutely no clue what I was going to do for my capstone, and after invading Julie’s office and yelling about a whole bunch of nonsense for 45 minutes, she managed to shape my thoughts into a capstone project idea (thanks, Julie!). Okay, cool, so we have an idea. Now what?


In this instance, research is fun. I’ve got to dig deep into the depths of David Sedaris’s life and read more of his work. I’ve got to read how other writers talk about their obsessions and passions, including reading about this dude’s utterly violent fascination with the White Stripes. He bought an apartment and the entire colour scheme was red, white, and black…ok crazybones…

Anyway, I’ve read and I’ve searched and I’ve formulated ideas and potential topics and blah blah blah. But I haven’t written anything. I can’t. Well, that’s a lame excuse and it’s also probably not true. I could. I’m scared. I have models of effective ways that authors have written about themselves and other people, how they navigate personal reflection with analysis of somebody else. It’s not that I don’t want to copy them, it’s that maybe I don’t like that type of structure. Which is bizarre because I love having things spelled out for me, it means I don’t really have to think as much (yeah, that sounds bad).

But maybe the thing is really that I want to make this piece my own and have the freedom to make it exactly how I want it. That actually isn’t a maybe, that’s exactly what I want. But I’m scared probably because maybe I don’t know exactly what I want and what if what I want turns out to be complete trash?

I’m not going to lie I had no idea where this post was going when I started and I feel like I unintentionally opened and deep, internal can of worms. I’m scaring myself. Constantly fearing the unknown. Goddamn it, Flick.


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