Why I Don’t Write (No, Really)


A friend and I were texting each other the other night and I told her how jealous I was that she works as a freelance writer and has written novels (or at least a good chunk of a novel) and that she gets to spend so much time working on her craft. This is nothing unusual for me; I spend a lot of my time marveling and admiring my friends and how awesome they are. I’ve told them this enough to probably make them plenty uncomfortable. Like so many of my feelings, it is perhaps best depicted in this comic from Girls With Slingshots (link)


THIS IS HOW I FEEL 80% OF THE TIME ABOUT MY FRIENDS.

*cough* ahem

But really, they are that amazing. At least in my eyes. I have friends who are writers, voice actors, photographers, doctors, etc. They are doing what they love and they are doing it well. I don’t mind it. I love that they are happy. They’re all beautiful amazing people and I love them so much. But this has nothing to do with writing, except that their wonderful accomplishments remind me of my own failures in pursuing my own dreams.

So why don’t I write? I mean really? I wrote a post on it before, discussing my fear of success and failure, but honestly, is that really what is holding me back now? I am more confident in myself and am better equipped emotionally to handle rejection and criticism. So when my friend asked me what was holding me back, instead of just responding with my usual ramble about my fears, I started to actually think about it. Also I fell asleep. That is also why I did not immediately respond.

Clearly, I do not have a problem writing blog posts. I have like five ideas that I still need to write/finish and post eventually. But I cannot for the life of me write my own stories that I have so tenderly and lovingly created in my own mind. Why is that?

Well, honestly, I blame the internet. And college, to a lesser extent. See, when I was a kid, I thought that wanting to be a writer was so cool and original and that I was a truly unique person for wanting to do that and for apparently being decent at it. I just knew that I would get published and although I've never wanted to be famous, I did want to be generally well-liked. 

And then college happened. And I took creative writing classes and found out that a lot of people had the same dream. That was cool; I was manager of the Writer's Workshop and met some really awesome people who were talented and I made friends. Spending time with these people was great and it made me want to be better. I also encountered people who clearly did NOT have talent, or at least not as much as they thought they did. 

And then I joined Tumblr. Which, while great, is also terrible at the same time. I saw a lot more people who wanted to be writers. Like..a LOT. It seems that everyone has stories they want to write or poems or whatever. Everyone seems to think they are a writer these days, really. 

Look, I am not a hipster. I mean, mostly. But...when did being a writer become a fad? Am I saying that the people who claim they are writers are fakes and I am better than them? No, not at all. I am grateful for all the writers out there because I have found a lot of great resources. 

Well, to quote Mad Men (man I am using a lot of pop culture stuff today): "I guarantee that in the bottom drawer of every desk in this place is the first ten pages of a novel." 

Is that all I am? Am I one of those fools who sits around dreaming instead of doing? Being a writer is something I have wanted (and still do want) so badly for so long. That desire beats within my chest, flows through my veins and tumbles around my mind. No one understands how much my characters and my world mean to me. No one. They are always on my mind, at least distantly. Want proof? Go look at my Pinterest page. Look at how many bookmarks I have on my computer for writing and drawing resources.

There is a temerity in me when it comes to the idea of sharing my creations with the world. Writers often compare their characters to their children, but it really is true. I am being selfish. I don't want to put my babies out in the world for everyone to see. I don't want them to be taken in by the world and warped and changed to fit someone else's ideas. Yes, I am a writer opposed to headcanons about my creations. I don't want anyone messing with that because it will warp who they are.

Of course, there is also the fact that I am surrounded and inundated with so many creators in my life. Naturally, I am a bit intimidated. I feel inferior, obviously. Tumblr didn't just expose me to more aspiring writers. I also see a lot of stuff by people who are already living their dream. Comic writers, artists, teachers, animal experts of every kind, people who are so smart and so accomplished.

I know I am talented. That is not bragging. It's a fact. I know I am not as talented as other people out there, but I am talented. I have passion and fervor. I have the time and the resources and the know-how. But do I have an audience?

What makes me special? What makes my voice the one that needs to be heard? How will I stand out? Who will listen to me? I want to write so I can entertain other people. If no one else would read my stories, am I not better off composing in my own head for my own entertainment?

Augh no I had a better point to make. This is why I should finish writing these in one day instead of two.

IF I REMEMBER THE POINT I HAD I WILL ADD IT.

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