I Can't Write This Because It's Stupid and I Don't Know Anything

If you have ever felt this way about something you were working on, congratulations. You have taken at least one step towards greatness, and this step is known as "self-awareness." If you're wondering whether your idea is stupid, it means you recognize that you aren't writing in a void; your writing will, eventually, be read by others--others who might have opinions about it. 

If this is something you are worrying about, I have bad news and good news for you. The bad news is, there's a decent chance that the thing you want to write is at least a little stupid, and you probably don't know everything. How do I know, you ask, ire firmly raised? Well, lower your hackles and I'll tell you: because everything humans do or think or feel is a little stupid. Eating? Stupid. We slop goop into our face-holes and slog it around a little, then glort it down, where it festers in our belly acid for a while, before worming its way back out, except way grosser now. Sleeping? We just lay in the dark for hours, doing nothing. 

If you ever find yourself taking life too seriously, I challenge you to take a walk and observe with objective attention just how preposterous this thing we do is, swinging our bones and sinew around in order to propel our ungainly bodies from one place to another. And those are just the basics. Add levels of social interaction, and we just keep multiplying the stupid. Handshakes? Weird and stupid. Kissing? Gross and stupid, and not enough unlike eating for my peace of mind. You get it. Life is weird and squishy, and I haven't even brought up the really squidgy examples.

So this is what you need to do: embrace the potential of stupidity. Embrace the potential that stupidity is all around us. It's like carbon. Not the bad kind they talk about that burns holes in the ozone, but the molecule that makes everything. Human interaction and existence is predicated on a foundation of stupidity and weirdness. 

I think the deeper emotion behind worrying that your idea is "stupid," though, is the feeling that no one will care what you have to say. "These are just some people I made up, going through some problems, that I also made up. Who cares?" 

Take a step back. At one point, that same thing could have been said about every work of fiction ever written. Two kids from families with a grudge fall in love and die? Who cares? Stupid. A guy tries to get home after a war and gets held up by a bunch of obstacles? Whatever, stupid. A redheaded orphan gets grudgingly adopted by a Canadian couple. Um, ok. STUPID. An adolescent girl gets her period and her best friend dies from bee stings. Sad, but... it's all just made up, so...stupid.

The point is that we, as humans, do care. We care what happens to people, even made-up people. Not only are we capable of caring about people who only exist through the words of authors, but we love it. We crave it and actively seek it out. Why? Well, that's probably a question for someone with a little more research available to them, but the fact remains that we do. We always will.

So the answer to your question (well, your complaint) is no, it's not too stupid. Yes, you know things--at the very minimum, you know enough to write this story. More than that, though, people want to hear what you have to say. People want to meet the characters that only you can bring to life. People are waiting with baited breath to cry over tragedies you make up and laugh over witty banter only you could craft.

So get started, already.

Waiting would be even more stupid than kissing.