If writers had the type of personality where they could work hard constantly and do something that contributes to their work every day, we would have such a vast amount of good work that… well, I don’t know what. It would just be amazing.
Of course, then we wouldn’t be writers.
Yes, yes, there are a lot of writers who do get a fair amount of work done, be it with original stories or edits to something they have been working on for a while. However, I think even these writers feel inadequate and wish they could do more. (Wait until they see how much I write a day, ha, ha… ha.)
The crazy part is that the desire to work is still present, so strong that it’s sometimes all I think about when I’m in class, in the shower, with friends. Man, I just cannot wait to get home and write.
And then, of course, something comes up, or I fall asleep, or I forget about how much I wanted to write and end up watching Netflix instead. Or worse, the ability to write (I do not dare call it talent) simply leaves my body the second I put my key in the door.
It’s a struggle for sure. However, we did not choose this profession because it was easy. No, we became writers because we are writers, and to give that up is to deny yourself a part of your existence.
Seem dramatic? Then you aren’t a writer. Apply it to something you feel that you cannot live without. If you don’t know what it is, then I’m sorry but you have yet to find your passion. For those who do know—be it advocating for human rights, solving complicated math problems, or reviewing films—then just imagine no longer being able to do this thing you love and that brings you so much joy.
No, we can’t give it up; even if it sometimes looks like we have.
And sometimes we do, of course. Life gets in the way. Do you know how many people actually make money off of what they’ve written? I don’t, but it’s not a lot. Think of the number of successful books there are and the fact that most writers can’t make a living off of what they write, and you’ll see how many of us there really are in the world.
It’s disheartening, for sure. Gosh, I hate it, actually. I would love to spend my days writing books, but it is p h y s i c a l l y impossible.
I’m sure there is a reason for why it is impossible, but I’m not about to google it to find out.
No, I shall just wait until inspiration strikes (against the advice of creative writing professors who say all you need to do to be a writer is to just write).
Waiting.
Waiting.
Oh, I think I've got it.