|It's that day again!|
Do you ever wish, even just for a moment, that you'd never started this writing lark?
I sometimes look back to days when my evenings and weekends were just filled with... well, ordinary things like reading, cooking, watching tv, the odd bit of housework... and feel a little pang of nostalgia.
I always wanted to be a writer. I wrote voraciously through my teens, confident that one day it would be my 'proper' job. However, life doesn't go according to plan, as we all know, and I was 39 before I found myself with (almost!) enough time on my hands to consider giving it a go. I'd never stopped writing - in my head. I'd scribble notes on the back of receipts - anything - when out or on holiday and an idea or a line of dialogue struck me; I just never had time to use them.
Now, I am so, so grateful to have had my short stories accepted and published, but the pressure I'm feeling is sometimes so huge I feel the need to hide. I'm the one applying this pressure, of course, but the stress of finding enough time to write around my day job, of waiting for acceptance or rejection, of wanting to write and having to sit and make small talk with the MiL instead, sometimes makes me feel like tearing my hair out.
I know that I won't give up. I tried to a couple of years ago and came slinking back to the laptop eventually. If you're a writer, it's just there, inside you. Convincing others that you're a writer with something to say that's worth reading is the hard part, and sometimes, with the novel that I want to write but am yet afraid to start looming over me, I wonder if I can really do it.
I've come to the conclusion that it's fine to feel insecure and beaten at times - it's probably much healthier than rolling along on a calm, confident sea and becoming complacent. There's much further to fall from there!