Writer's block

I wrote a poem on my cycle to work:

On Autumn days when my breath masks the crisp blue sky
On Autumn days when the leaves colour the cold hard ground
On Autumn days when the frost nips the edges of everything

On Autumn days when Summer loses its battle to survive
These are the days when I feel most alive

I don't get writer's block. Well, not the block where I can't think what to write, just sitting staring at the blank page. Once I have a pen and paper in front of me, you can't stop me. So much so I've missed meals, alarms and bedtime. But I do get writer's block in that I don't even have a blank page in front of me to be afraid of. I don't get that far. Incidentally, the fear of the blank page is Vacansopapurosophobia. Don't ask me how to pronounce it.

Anyway, I don't have a blank page as I've already written parts of my book: I have the title, the characters, the plot, the chapters and the first paragraph. So I'm not even scared of the blank page. I'm scared of something far bigger than that, something that goes far deeper, something so profoundly terrifying I can't even sit down to write. I've always identified as a writer and longed to be published, I've always found it easy to write and I've always had ideas on what I want to write about. But now I'm actually on my way to being a writer, I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm being pummelled by what if's. What if I'm not as good as I think I am? What if my idea is rubbish? What if my years of not writing have dried up my writing abilities?

Something that has helped is that writing project I've mentioned. My piece has been accepted and I'm now a paid writer! I just have to wait and see what they do with my work. I'm determined to get this book written and I will bring myself to get started... soon.