Writing is not for the faint of heart

This may seem a little more negative than my usual post, so I am going to preface it with, I am dreaming big, working hard, trying to stay focused and am absolutely surrounded by good people.

That said, being a creative writing author is not for the faint of heart and some days I really struggle. It's a constant balancing act to juggle family and work responsibilities while carving out time for writing and reading. Sometimes I feel like I have to choose between being a good parent, an effective employee, or a writer. And sometimes I feel like I'm failing at all three.

I've tried different routines to make writing a habit. I've tried waking up early, staying up late, writing during lunch breaks, writing on weekends, writing whenever I have a spare moment. But none of them seem to stick. There's always something more urgent, more important, more demanding that comes up and interrupts my flow. And then I have to start over again.

But then I wonder: should writing be more important than anything else? If being a writer is what I feel in the centre of my soul is what I’m destined to be, should I prioritize my passion over my job, my family, my health? Is that even possible? Is that even fair? How can I justify spending hours in front of a screen or a notebook, creating imaginary worlds and characters, when there are real people and problems that need my attention?

Even if I reconcile all those competing priorities and find time to sit, guilt free, at my writing desk, out comes the good old procrastination demon. The endless cycle of staring at a blank page, waiting for inspiration to strike, browsing the internet, checking social media, reading other people's blogs, watching videos, playing games, doing anything but writing. And then feeling guilty and frustrated and angry at myself for wasting time and not being productive.

If by some miracle, I find myself in a place where I’ve resolved all the other priorities. I have successfully dealt with the procrastination demon, only for the worst of all, the inner critic, to take its place. My mind's incessant voice, a combination of anyone I’ve encountered over the years that’s put me down, called me stupid, says that I can’t ‘learn’ to write and that I either have the gift or I don’t, crowding every thought to convince me that my writing is garbage. That it will go unnoticed, and that I possess no talent, skill, or creativity. The voice that makes me doubt myself, compare myself to others, delete everything I've written, and start from scratch. The voice that makes me want to give up and quit.

Being an author is hard. But it's also rewarding, fulfilling, and my dream. I would also say that it’s fun, but that really depends on your definition of fun. I’ve probably not sold the whole ‘being a writer’ thing, but the truth is, it really is fun. Creating characters I love and giving them the opportunities to do the things I wish I had the courage to do. To say the things I wish I’d thought of when facing one of my own real-life nemesis instead of thinking about it five minutes after the conflict is over.

Then there are the villains, and while I know we all like to say that our villains are not based on people we know (and by that, I mean don’t like) but who am I kidding? My villains are absolutely based on people I don’t like, the people that have mistreated me, have put me down and done what they can to dull my light since I was a child. My villains are a combination of these people, their behaviours, language, and personality traits with a splash of creativity to glue it all together. I give them a little power initially, but ultimately and slowly I take it away, and then I kill them off. I am a thriller writer after all; someone always ends up dead! Those are the moments I crave.

So, I keep writing. Despite the challenges, obstacles, and doubts. I keep writing because I love it; it makes me happy, and it gives me a sense of purpose.

And I hope I keep writing too.