I feel so far behind. My brain says why bother? I open the computer and stare. I tell myself a million times a day, “you should be writing.” I pace around my dining room table with my Mac mocking me. I lie awake at night thinking about story ideas. Yet, I don’t write.
There are huge numbers of indie writers out there that have multiple books under their belt. Some are making great money, some are not, but all of them have written more than me. And I feel inferior. The angrier I get about this fact, the less I feel like writing. My gut tells me there isn’t enough time to get anything completed. I end up feeling frustrated about my lack of progress. I don’t write. It is a vicious circle.
Last month was an epic fail. I had the flu twice and the day job did not relent. The month raced by and my anxiety rose daily. I wrote very few words. In fact, so few that I’ve contemplated quitting. That’s right; forget this whole writing endeavor. My career is teaching, I’m pretty good at it, and my paycheck will roll in each month at the same time and same amount. It sure would make life simpler. No more fretting over writing time versus family time. No more saving money for an editor, or cover designer. No more fighting with my wife about cutting back hours in order to write more. Sounds like a win / win, correct?
There are many fellow writers, who I consider friends, that tell me you make time for what is important. And if you want to be an author you will find the time. I want to punch them in the mouth. I know they are well intentioned and are attempting to motivate me, but it pisses me off. I’m a non-violent person, but my fists clench. Where the hell is this time?
My starting and stopping has also contributed to that feeling. It is much like a diet or exercise routine, it goes on for awhile, but ends up back at the same old routine. Seriously, I can’t get out of my own way to complete any writing. I’m so frustrated I have half a mind to throw this computer across the room. I won’t, because it costs too much damn money, but it would feel good. My logic is tearing me down. There are a million and one reasons why being an author won’t work. Why put yourself through this? I ask.
And for as many logical reasons I can come up with not to write, I still can’t convince myself. It is something I need to do. I can see the opportunities that are out there. Doing this podcast each week exposes me to possibilities and there are numerous people in the writing community willing to share and encourage. I need to get out of my own head and find a way.
I will be a published author who makes a living from his writing, dammit. There are some truths I need to face. The first one is my negative thought process and how it is hurting my goals. Time for a reboot.
Thanks for letting me share my hurdles with you.
