The Illusionist
Many non-writers have misconceptions of a writer's life. People think we're all rich like Stephen King or that we just say "abracadabra" and *boom* you can go to Borders and buy our books.
Sometimes it's not all it's cracked up to be. It's lonely and it's hard and sometimes you wonder why you even do it. It's a bloodsport and a vampire that drains everything out of you.
And sometimes I'm just too tired to go on. This is what I've been fighting since I've been in high school and began writing seriously. I've struggled with fatigue and trying to have a career is tiring and grueling, even if it's mental instead of physical. So it got to be too tiring a couple years out of school and struggling with the day job and writing course that when the course was done and paid for I quit. I quit writing. I didn't have the mental energy or the physical energy to come home and write. I just wanted to sleep. I dreaded getting up any earlier than I needed to to write before work so I didn't. Nothing worked out. I wondered how other writers did it. I was so jealous of them I wanted to scream. So for about ten years I drifted in an out of different day jobs while pursuing my interest in music. I had long given up on having a career of any sort...but even that got tiring. I didn't want to live my life like that.
So I tried...I really tried...to get back into this writing thing. To publish my poetry again. To fulfill my dream of being a horror novelist. To, as they say, do what I love for a living.
But it's all an illusion and at 33 years-old I sometimes fear it's too late.
And I never said I was a good writer. I mean, the most I've ever got paid for a published poem's been $5. I don't think I've even gotten paid for a poem in almost a year. My short stories constantly get rejected. I'm not well known enough for folks to shell out cash on my chapbook. Someone on an online forum once told me maybe I'm not meant to be a writer. Is that the harsh truth?
Sometimes it's not all it's cracked up to be. It's lonely and it's hard and sometimes you wonder why you even do it. It's a bloodsport and a vampire that drains everything out of you.
And sometimes I'm just too tired to go on. This is what I've been fighting since I've been in high school and began writing seriously. I've struggled with fatigue and trying to have a career is tiring and grueling, even if it's mental instead of physical. So it got to be too tiring a couple years out of school and struggling with the day job and writing course that when the course was done and paid for I quit. I quit writing. I didn't have the mental energy or the physical energy to come home and write. I just wanted to sleep. I dreaded getting up any earlier than I needed to to write before work so I didn't. Nothing worked out. I wondered how other writers did it. I was so jealous of them I wanted to scream. So for about ten years I drifted in an out of different day jobs while pursuing my interest in music. I had long given up on having a career of any sort...but even that got tiring. I didn't want to live my life like that.
So I tried...I really tried...to get back into this writing thing. To publish my poetry again. To fulfill my dream of being a horror novelist. To, as they say, do what I love for a living.
But it's all an illusion and at 33 years-old I sometimes fear it's too late.
And I never said I was a good writer. I mean, the most I've ever got paid for a published poem's been $5. I don't think I've even gotten paid for a poem in almost a year. My short stories constantly get rejected. I'm not well known enough for folks to shell out cash on my chapbook. Someone on an online forum once told me maybe I'm not meant to be a writer. Is that the harsh truth?