- Joined
- Oct 9, 2013
- Messages
- 65
- Reaction score
- 8
Hi
I've been writing since I was a teenager but never managed to finish anything. This was mostly ok because I enjoyed it so much that I didn't care. Then there was work. I started working doing something I wasn't that interested in and in the past few years, I have come to positively hate it.
But throughout it all, I was still mostly able to write, even if I jumped from WIP to WIP and never finished anything. Getting published would have been neat but not that important to me in the end. However now, I try to write but I just get this feeling of pointlessness. I'm so tired of work, life, I'm constantly dreading tomorrow, I have no time to do anything pleasurable so why would I waste it doing something so hard as writing? Especially knowing it's not going to go anywhere?
Even when I try, I open my word processor, I know what kind of story I want to write, I have a couple of very vivid scenes I want to get down... then my fingers touch the keyboard and blank. It feels like typing is the last thing I want to do right now. I may be able to coax 100 words or so, with much difficulty but I literally would rather rip out my nails. And I mean literally. My hands are a mess...
And the scary thing is that it's not just my writing. I feel like my mind is shrinking. I used to have such a rich fantasy life. My daydreams used to be amazing. My dreams! Oh man! My dreams were EPIC! Every time! Now, I have levels of Candy Crush saga playing in my brain, and that's on a good day. My dreams? Well, the other night, I dreamed that I was tidying my flat with my mother's help. Fascinating.
Is this writer's block? Or a symptom of something else?
I know I need to quit my job but it's not exactly a possibility right now. Changing jobs? To what? I'll just end up doing the same thing for someone else. Taking a break? I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world...
And God knows there are writers out there, very successful, happy writers in crummier situations than me and they're doing fine. So why can't I cope?
Anyway, thank you for the rant space
I've been writing since I was a teenager but never managed to finish anything. This was mostly ok because I enjoyed it so much that I didn't care. Then there was work. I started working doing something I wasn't that interested in and in the past few years, I have come to positively hate it.
But throughout it all, I was still mostly able to write, even if I jumped from WIP to WIP and never finished anything. Getting published would have been neat but not that important to me in the end. However now, I try to write but I just get this feeling of pointlessness. I'm so tired of work, life, I'm constantly dreading tomorrow, I have no time to do anything pleasurable so why would I waste it doing something so hard as writing? Especially knowing it's not going to go anywhere?
Even when I try, I open my word processor, I know what kind of story I want to write, I have a couple of very vivid scenes I want to get down... then my fingers touch the keyboard and blank. It feels like typing is the last thing I want to do right now. I may be able to coax 100 words or so, with much difficulty but I literally would rather rip out my nails. And I mean literally. My hands are a mess...
And the scary thing is that it's not just my writing. I feel like my mind is shrinking. I used to have such a rich fantasy life. My daydreams used to be amazing. My dreams! Oh man! My dreams were EPIC! Every time! Now, I have levels of Candy Crush saga playing in my brain, and that's on a good day. My dreams? Well, the other night, I dreamed that I was tidying my flat with my mother's help. Fascinating.
Is this writer's block? Or a symptom of something else?
I know I need to quit my job but it's not exactly a possibility right now. Changing jobs? To what? I'll just end up doing the same thing for someone else. Taking a break? I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world...
And God knows there are writers out there, very successful, happy writers in crummier situations than me and they're doing fine. So why can't I cope?
Anyway, thank you for the rant space