I'm having a bad day and I hate writing and now I'm going to bitch about it so you should probably just go read something else for awhile
*Disclaimer: There is nothing in this post that will make you happy. In fact, the whole thing's pretty much a serious downer. I'd seriously encourage you to spend the next few minutes of your life in a more fulfilling way.
Why do I do this? Seriously, why do I continue to torture myself? I think I'm going to have bumper stickers printed up that say "Writing is for Masochists" because it's the only way I can describe how I feel today. I'm just so dissatisfied with everything I've been writing lately and I'm sick of it, sick of myself. Who am I kidding? I have no talent for this so why the hell did I even get started?
Case in point, I started working on a new story yesterday. After a page and a half, I stopped writing. I was worried I was beginning to overthink it and I just stopped. Instead of just letting it come out naturally, I felt like I was trying to push it. I haven't been able to write anything fictionish in over a month now and I haven't been able to finish a story in months. I've written a bunch of terrible poems and filled page after page in my journal but fiction is eluding me. I can't seem to get out of my head long enough to do the work.
Is this a sign and I'm ignoring it? Is this the universe trying to give me a hint? I've gone months at a time before without writing a word but I always come back to it. It's like a drug and I can't give it up, I always have to come back for one more hit. I know that if I give it up entirely, I'd miss it terribly and I'd regret it for the rest of my life. I don't think I can ever turn off that part of my brain that's always writing, always looking for stories, studying the details. It's gotten to the point lately where I've begun to dream about it, and let me tell you, it's weird to dream about people who don't exist.
I love writing. I love the possibility of saying or doing anything. I love the fact that you can live as many lives as you want and when you make mistakes, you can fix them. I love writing, even when I hate it, but that doesn't make me any good. I don't know, maybe I'm just not ready for it yet or maybe I need more practice. Maybe I just suck. I'm just not sure if it's worth it to try and find out anymore.
Today, right now, I wish that I'd never started in the first place. Tomorrow I might feel differently. Tomorrow I may sit down and the words will rush out of me, racing one another onto the page. Tomorrow, I may regret that I ever wrote this. I may come back here and pretend like it never happened. Right now I'm thinking about just deleting the whole thing.
But I won't, for now. For now, I'm going to put this out there and let it go in the hopes that I'll finally be free of it.
*If you read this whole post, I apologize for ruining your day.
**I know I said a few posts back that if I ever got whiny you could come and verbally kick my ass and I stand by that. Feel free to mock me, scorn me, tell me I'm not a real writer. Feel free to tell me I'm acting like a big baby and I should stop feeling sorry for myself. Feel free to tell me I suck and that I should just give up. But please, someone, tell me I'm not alone.
Why do I do this? Seriously, why do I continue to torture myself? I think I'm going to have bumper stickers printed up that say "Writing is for Masochists" because it's the only way I can describe how I feel today. I'm just so dissatisfied with everything I've been writing lately and I'm sick of it, sick of myself. Who am I kidding? I have no talent for this so why the hell did I even get started?
Case in point, I started working on a new story yesterday. After a page and a half, I stopped writing. I was worried I was beginning to overthink it and I just stopped. Instead of just letting it come out naturally, I felt like I was trying to push it. I haven't been able to write anything fictionish in over a month now and I haven't been able to finish a story in months. I've written a bunch of terrible poems and filled page after page in my journal but fiction is eluding me. I can't seem to get out of my head long enough to do the work.
Is this a sign and I'm ignoring it? Is this the universe trying to give me a hint? I've gone months at a time before without writing a word but I always come back to it. It's like a drug and I can't give it up, I always have to come back for one more hit. I know that if I give it up entirely, I'd miss it terribly and I'd regret it for the rest of my life. I don't think I can ever turn off that part of my brain that's always writing, always looking for stories, studying the details. It's gotten to the point lately where I've begun to dream about it, and let me tell you, it's weird to dream about people who don't exist.
I love writing. I love the possibility of saying or doing anything. I love the fact that you can live as many lives as you want and when you make mistakes, you can fix them. I love writing, even when I hate it, but that doesn't make me any good. I don't know, maybe I'm just not ready for it yet or maybe I need more practice. Maybe I just suck. I'm just not sure if it's worth it to try and find out anymore.
Today, right now, I wish that I'd never started in the first place. Tomorrow I might feel differently. Tomorrow I may sit down and the words will rush out of me, racing one another onto the page. Tomorrow, I may regret that I ever wrote this. I may come back here and pretend like it never happened. Right now I'm thinking about just deleting the whole thing.
But I won't, for now. For now, I'm going to put this out there and let it go in the hopes that I'll finally be free of it.
*If you read this whole post, I apologize for ruining your day.
**I know I said a few posts back that if I ever got whiny you could come and verbally kick my ass and I stand by that. Feel free to mock me, scorn me, tell me I'm not a real writer. Feel free to tell me I'm acting like a big baby and I should stop feeling sorry for myself. Feel free to tell me I suck and that I should just give up. But please, someone, tell me I'm not alone.
posted by writingblind at 9:49 AM
4 Comments:
Oh, have I ever been there. I think people who write more than one type of thing will tend to go in cycles. Fiction, then poetry, then memoir, etc.
If I can offer a suggestion, which is probably worth what you paid for it, consider writing something completely different. Write a book/poetry review or something like that where you are reacting instead of creating from nothing. That might help you write without pressure.
Maybe?
Maybe, I've never tried that before. It just all seems like crap lately so I'm questioning the whole point of it.
Well, I also believe in just taking time off and coming back when you can't stay away any longer. I did that for a couple of years with poetry and it finally worked.
All I can say is that you're definitely not alone. Best wishes.
Good luck with what you decide to do - your post seemed very honest and quite beautifully written. You might not feel it, but I'd say you were very much a writer. I hope you come back to it. I, for one, have enjoyed reading what you have to say.
Post a Comment
<< Home