The Biggest Obstacle

Incident Report

Albien Institute

October 26th, 2033

14 hours since the incident

Let the record reflect that my ability is not without flaw. It does not make me omniscient. I am no god. Although some of the people in this report appear awfully close to one. I have done my best to imbue this report with as much of my ability as I can, but even I cannot see into everyone’s mind. As previously stated in my personnel file, I cannot see memories unless presently thought about, and my ability only allows me to see perspectives after I meet the person physically. Seeing through a person’s perspective usually distorts fact with bias and emotion, but where objectivity failed us during our attempts to secure the asset, subjectivity perhaps will fill in the gaps.

It was my opinion at the time, and it remains my opinion that Alexander deVante should not have been included in this operation. He is an invaluable addition to the intelligence unit, but the other instructors chose to ignore the circumstances which would have made him ineligible to participate. The psychological evaluation given to him was not nearly as thorough as it should have been, and it allowed his specific coping skills to become accepted when they should have been stopped. He cannot be blamed for what he did not piece together in time.

As for his involvement at present, I am not sure it is avoidable.

Alistair Foreman

Ability: Perspective

Position: Head of Intelligence at Albien Institute

Age: 41

Status at time of entry : ALIVE

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Everyday I cycle between a god complex and the unshakable feeling that I am a failure. The excerpt above is from my manuscript, my thought child of over ten years. When I wrote this particular excerpt, I felt the novel unfolding under my fingertips. I had spent so long staring at empty pages, and in a random spurt of inspiration, a new narrator appeared.

Alistair Foreman appeared as a character through which the story of the other characters are told. In a superhero story, his power makes him the perfect person to log the events of what will come to happen. In my head, he took the form of Nanami Kento from Jujutsu Kaisen (though the personalities are not similar at all), and having him insert foreboding lamentations throughout the narrative helped with a lot of my writer’s block.

The issue is mainly that I feel as though I’m looking at my whole narrative as a picture, and it’s suddenly blurry. Characters have their own designs and desires, but the world around them appears flat. There is so much worldbuilding that will have to be done after this first draft. What is the magic system? Should this be dual POV? How does one become a teacher at the institute? What is the role of superheroes in the society? What is crime like? What percentage of people have superpowers? Some many questions and almost zero answers.

Contributing to my doubt is the fact that I am reading book 5 of Red Rising at the moment. Pierce Brown is so incredibly brilliant that it has made me seriously doubt my ability to write this book. Red Rising is so vivid, the world so detailed. Characters have epic entrances. The narration takes its time. Emotions are well-described. How did he do it??

I know that I shouldn’t compare my work in progress to a very successful author’s published books, but it seems that writing is walking through an ocean of doubt as the waves get bigger and bigger. There’s no point in running, and I haven’t yet learned to swim.

This novel is every superhero story that I wished to read, a story about how we make our own monsters and how much people are willing to lose themselves for the people they love. I see its potential. I see how it can touch others. I can almost see the conversations to be had about its contents, but every press of a key is like pulling a tooth. I wrote book-length fanfictions last year with greater ease.

It feels as though the biggest obstacle to my own writing is me. There is plenty of revising to be done, of course. Awkward dialogue. Pointless plot points. Restructuring of the worldbuilding. But my own doubt is my biggest demon. Doubt about whether or not this will be any good, doubt over whether or not I can do it. Still, I surge forward.

My main critique isn't even to do with my actual writing, but more to do with my inability to trust myself, to let myself write something imperfect on the first go. I am so terrified to be bad that I let myself be invisible.