The frustrated writer (a rant)

“But you get to write all day! You’re doing what you love for a living, you’re so lucky. I wish I could be writing instead of working on the tills/in a call centre/in an office [delete as appropriate].”

Do you? Do you really? Because let me tell you, writing for a living isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, unless you truly are lucky and are getting paid to write about the things you want to write about.

I don’t have that luxury. At all. I “specialise” in a single subject, but at best the things I write about barely interest me, and at worst I flat out detest the words that are spewing from my fingertips. It’s dry, boring and there’s nothing to get my teeth into, and the pressure of writing a lot of words in the minimum amount of time means I’m barely brushing the surface of most things.

And I’m still in an office. A bland, boring office that saps my inspiration, energy and sanity on a daily basis. By the time I get home from a day of churning out page after page of uninspiring claptrap I’m in no fit state to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) for the duration of the evening. I often can’t bring myself to do anything more than think about the kind of things I want to write about. And even that’s pushing it.

I get frustrated at my lack of motivation, which in all fairness, has been brought on by sheer brain-melting boredom and a necessity to get thousands of words onto the page during my working hours, burning me out in the process. My brain cannot fathom the thought of writing anything else; it just won’t. It straight up refuses. It has devolved into mush.

I go to bed and lament my job and my inability to write in my own time. I sleep un-restfully, wake up annoyed (and already bored) and head back to my desk where I’m silently screaming at the screen by lunchtime.

And so the pattern continues.

I think it’s actually sending me slightly crazy.

Of course, I know I’m lucky really. I’ve got a stable job that allows me to live fairly comfortably, and there are certain parts of it that I genuinely do enjoy, it’s just that I don’t get the time to really develop those aspects (cue more frustration).

I’m in a better position than many in that I have security – certainly more than I had when I freelanced – and I suppose I do still get to write for a living, even if it isn’t exactly on subjects I’d choose to write about. I can’t imagine doing anything other than writing as my day job, that’s for sure. Silver linings and all that.

But we all need to rant sometimes, right?




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