Thursday Words

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Hello friends and welcome to another deceptive edition of Just Another Struggling Writer. I’m just another struggling writer. 

I’m not feeling especially good today, mentally, so my apologies in advance for kind of a downer post. 

I’ve been trying for a really long time, years really, to transform myself into what I imagine is a successful writer. Someone like those aspiring authors I meet on Twitter who live and breathe the beauty of words. Who write every day but even when they don’t they’re still immersed in their work in different ways. Who love the craft, love to read, love to interact with the community. 

I want to be that person. I believe that in my heart. I’ve been striving for so long to let go of what I believe are limiting beliefs and bad habits so that I can grow and transform myself into the creative being I know I have the potential to be. 

But belief, I have learned rather painfully on numerous occasions, isn’t fucking enough. Desire isn’t enough. And if it is, then… I’m just not cut out for the writing thing.

Because day after day, night after night, time after time when I have time to write so, so frustratingly often I just… don’t. Instead, I decide to tunnel down inside myself and hide. Either I endlessly scroll social media, or I play video games until way too late in the night, or I just go to bed early because fuck it why not. 

And then I get up the next morning and bemoan my lack of progress. I promise myself I will do better, I make plans, and I set goals, and I proclaim to the world that I will do these things today. But, when I get home, the cycle of procrastination continues, regardless.

At what point do I realize that I just don’t have the raw work ethic it takes to be a successful writer? At what point do I just accept that maybe writing should remain a hobby rather than a career. At what point does the stress and guilt I subject myself to from not writing become reason enough to formally give up?  

Has everything I’ve done up until now been for nothing?

Are my stories even worth telling? 

Am I even a writer?

Until next time, my friends. May your writing be plenty and your struggles be few.

Kerry Share

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1 thought on “The Lies We Tell Ourselves”

  1. Writing is one of the few things in life where you can struggle hard and put out a lot of work, yet still feel like you’ve accomplished nothing. I too am at a crossroads in my writing career, as I’ve found ‘success’ in the traditional sense of being published, but it’s not something I can live off of. So yeah, here’s to finding our way!

    Liked by 2 people

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