I’ve spoken about many of my difficulties in my writing career pretty extensively, and I don’t want anyone to think for a second I don’t love writing.
I love writing. My problem in this context is that I love it so much doing anything else always feels a little disappointing, and as it stands I still need to do other things to enable me to write. I hope that won’t be the case for very much longer, but as it stands, thems the breaks.
And it’s particularly tricky when it comes to motivation. A big part of why I write is the sheer love of it, sure, but at the same time I’m writing because I want to make a living from it. I want to be able to eat, not fancy but consistently. I want to be able to afford a home that has both power and clean water (crazy, I know), and other than that… not a whole lot, honestly. I have very modest needs, and it’s a struggle to meet those at this stage.
So moments like this, as I approach the close of another novel and will soon have to pay somebody a lot of money to edit it so I can publish it… it’s hard. The sooner I finish it, the sooner I can move on to my next project, my next novel or movie or short story or whatever, but the sooner it will also become apparent that I still can’t afford my modest standards of living off my writing alone.
It’s tough. But I don’t know what else to do, so I keep plugging away at it, hoping that maybe this novel will be the one that means I can devote more of my time to this joyous work.
Ah well. Maybe this one. And if not, maybe the next one.
Hope everyone out there is staying safe and healthy!