Doubts

I hate feeling this way.
I hate doubting everything I've written, everything I'm writing, and everything I've yet to write.

I'm having one of those moments when I question my work and whether it's embarrassingly horrible and terrible. Or whether it's nothing at all, which is worse.

The cold-sweat suspicion has consumed me and even though I've stumbled into this dark, empty room before and made my way out, at this moment I feel like I'll never find the door.

I noticed a simple grammatical error---something common and usually overlooked--that caused the rapid unravelling. I frantically began sifting through all the possible situations when I could've made this grammatical error--conversations, emails, blogs, novels, queries, professional correspondence---until I was hyperventilating.  Did I say it then? Did I use it incorrectly? Is it why my query was rejected? The scenarios and situations have repeatedly sliced through me all day, making me cringe with mortification and concern. Am I worrying for nothing? Or are my worries valid? This particular grammatical error was neither technical nor head-scratch worthy; it was stupid and insignificant, and it should have never been common or overlooked. I can't believe I didn't notice it until now...

I hate feeling this way.
I hate feeling stupid and incompetent.
I hate not knowing everything. 

And I hate knowing that I'm failing to correct so many other errors. I'll stumble across them one day when I'm feeling content and confident about my writing, and then the familiar flash of doubt and insecurity will momentarily blind me from the real reason why I write.

It makes me wonder if a writer has to be an editor too, or if being a storyteller is enough. I suppose a story can't be told or read if it's swamped with grammatical errors. Hopefully this blog isn't too bogged.

I'm already doubting if any of this makes sense.

Goodnight,
L