I'm having some serious problems with my writing lately. I've become very undisciplined--haven't written anything in over a month. No thesis (which I need to get moving on) no short stories, no work on the NIP (Novel In Progress)--granted, said novel is in the planning/character building stages so... yeah. I'm really frustrated with myself because I've gotten off track. I used to sit down every Monday-Wednesday-Friday from 4-roughly 6 p.m. and write, and then every Tuesday-Thursday from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. But its been over a month and nothing.

In part, and I know this is just an excuse, I feel really frustrated and daunted by the whole "Getting Published" thing. Its hard... seriously hard. There's a market for "literary" fiction (i.e. literary journals) and there's an inexplicable market for poets (note: my apologies to any poets out there who read this. I like poetry, I really do, I just don't get it.). However, the genres that I dabble in--non-fiction, sci-fi/fantasy--don't have this huge market for "beginner" writers like myself. Which is odd, cause they're apparently the two most popular forms of literature consumed by the public.

I'm definitely not suffering from writer's block... more like writer's frustration. I spend a lot of time wondering if, at the age of soon-to-be-28, if this is really worth it. Do I struggle to get published for the next 10 years, or do I simply make half-hearted attempts while pursuing something more lucrative (or at least something that will pay the bills)? For example, I love teaching but I don't want to teach Freshman Comp for the rest of my life. If I want to pursue the teaching thing, I need more school (i.e. a Doctorate), in what I'm not sure--maybe Literature Studies, or Film Studies--but on the other hand, if I continue to slog through the Freshman Comp classes, work my tail off at a second job, and attempt to get published, I could teach writing workshops. Which would be awesome.

I guess the point is, I'm frustrated. And because I'm frustrated, I feel creatively blocked. I know its mental, I know I need get over it and get beyond it, but its hard. Its really, really hard to pour your heart and soul into something that is potentially never going to get recognized. But the thing is, I love it. I love it in the most irrational way possible. I love getting lost in the words and the story and the lives of the beings. I love the clack of my fingers across the keyboard when a fit of inspiration hits. Love it in ways that can't be explained. And I suppose that loving something doesn't make it any easier.


Tags: writing