Losing a Passion



I haven’t been writing, guys. At all.

Well I guess that’s a lie–I’ve written a few shitty poems. I’ve written a few magazine articles. But anything of real substance, vulnerability, skill? Nah.

I even thought about giving it up. Yeah, as in, giving up writing. Forever. Not the normal “I’m not good enough, I’ll never amount to anything, I’ll never be a famous author, fuck writing” thoughts that make you a writer. I’m talking black hole depression “I vow never to focus an ounce of energy on stringing words together ever, ever again.”

There are a few reasons for this disaster. I won’t go into those, but let’s just say I’ve been bumbling around for awhile now, and it’s starting to bug the hell out of me. Realization: I’ve never written “to be good enough, to amount to something, to be a famous author”…I’ve written to be true to myself as a person, to stay sane, to feel OK. I have not been any of those things as of late.

Anyway, I won’t allow myself to lose a passion. I may not ever self-publish again, I may not ever even finish another novel…but I’ll keep writing. Even if that means forcing myself to show up to Shut Up and Write! meet-ups at local coffee shops…the only girl in a private room full of old men writing memoirs.

[Sidenote: the group that was using the room before us was a “mens group”…I had to Google that shit. There are men who are emotionally secure enough to admit that they could use friends, mentors, advice, guidance…?! Whaaaaat? That’s badass. But you have to wonder…are they getting much accomplished without a woman in there, telling them what they’re doing wrong? Haha I kid, I kid…]

More on my new writers group. First of all, let me take back what I said about them all being old men. There is one who is not old, but rather, drop dead gorgeous. He is married. Of course. The rest are my grandfather’s age, with the same cranky jokes and wheezy laughs. Ron writes with a pen in a binder full of blank paper. Erwin talks about Chinese-Americans and the pressure they feel to succeed–so much pressure that two of his friends have committed suicide. He’s unsure whether this is short story-worthy. My eyes widen and I assure him it is. I want to read it NOW, actually.

This is going to be great for me.






11 responses »

  1. Never say never. I’m so sorry you’re going through all this. Another online author friend is going through something similar at the moment. I guess most writers experience something similar from time to time. But good on you for sticking with the writing. The ‘big projects’ can wait. Look after yourself and refill your well. All the best.

  2. I refuse to let you stop writing!!! You can’t not write another book, because 1.) if not for you writing, The Waiting Room, I wouldn’t have realized how much I love/struggle with reviewing books. But I love helping authors..and I loved helping you. The joy was insane and God happened to put you in my path. ☺️ 2.) My friend devoured your book in one night when she came to visit in December. She loved it and asked me about the next day who my fave couple was and I couldn’t remember. I had like the memory of this one where they are in the store, it’s like southern or something. Maybe I need a refresher πŸ™‚ and most importantly #3: I will be in Texas by the time you write your next novel and launch it like mad. And then we can share a doughnut or Starbucks πŸ˜‰

    SO, DON’T GIVE UP!! ❀️❀️❀️ also, old men have a ton of wisdom, ooohhh WRITE about all of them in their own kind of group! The wisdom group.. πŸ˜‰

  3. I’ve been there. I am there. At the point of “what’s the point?”. But I go on because… I don’t know. It’s what I do, a strong self-definition. The odds are against us, we struggle for perfection while knowing it’s unattainable. But I write, even if it’s only for myself. It’s a voice that will not stop in spite of my insistence. When it works, it’s indescribable. When it doesn’t, it’s heartache. I can’t count the number of the times I’ve thrown my pen down in frustration, swearing “no more.” But then the words trickle in, and then flow, and then a rush that cannot be dammed. Don’t give up. If it’s in you, it won’t go away. There’s no guarantee of anything other than the pleasure it will bring you when it works. Writing is cruel, yes, but also a joy. It’s a cliche, but you won’t succeed if you don’t try. Sometimes it DOES all come together. Some writers DO succeed… why not you? πŸ™‚

  4. Yeah, it’s odd sometimes how you write simply because it’s what you are compelled to do. Not for fame or glory, and yet it can still get so depressing and frustrating. I’m working my voice again outside of blogging and sometimes I hate the crap that is coming out, but I remind myself this is my passion no matter what comes of it, and so I write. So please don’t give up from one internet stranger to another, if only for yourself!

  5. I can relate to absolutely everything you said. I’ve been going through a very similar experience. The ache I used to feel keenly when I first got “blocked” (and my block is more akin the kind one’s college roommate pulled at the bar, rather than anything internal) has dulled, and that in itself hurts. It’s excellent that you are looking for solutions.

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