Writing Is Hard
I wish not to stream forth less-than-eloquently about the audacity at people to reject my oh-so-beautiful manuscript. Nor do I want to appear frustrated, tired, or otherwise perturbed by the awesomeness that is writing.
However, I would like to point out that writing is hard.
“Thank you, Mackenzie,” You force a smile, “But I know that already.”
I don’t care whether or not you know it. I just want to talk about it. (Read: Ramble on and on about a topic that I, and only I care about. But it’s my blog, so haha!)
So yeah. Writing is hard. Writing sucks sometimes. I just put myself on a ridiculous deadline schedule that will require me to outline the rest of my novel today, and that is looking really scary right now. I don’t know how I want the beginning to pan out, but I need this novel finished.
Also, I’ve started a shakedown draft for two other novels. And trying to get a short story written so I can start getting a real readership. And about a hundred other things all at the same time that are all directly linked to my life as a writer.
And geezums, sometimes I look at it all and want to give up. I’m putting undue stress on myself by trying to hit outrageous deadlines, and forcing myself to work harder than I ever have before. Of course, I know my limit, and I know that I can always slow down a little. But I’m going full speed ahead right now, oblivious to any possible de-railment in the future.
It’s worth it.
I’ve been writing for six-ish years now, and I have loved it. Every. Second. True, it’s disappointing when someone doesn’t like your story. Yes, it’s frustrating when you come up with a beautiful plot about human slaves under robots and a thing called ‘The Matrix’ that controls them all, only to be told that this is the plot of a movie you have never heard of before (True story). And of course, it’s always a feather ruffle when people reject your manuscript (Although God Bless Cameron McClure for giving me an actual critique instead of a form letter. You are truly wonderful in my sight).
Despite setbacks and challenges galore, I’ve pushed through it. Read books on writing and listened to comic con panels on how to worldbuild. Wrote draft after draft of an MS, pushing away things like food, sleep, and people to get this dumb story onto paper. Because it’s worth it. Writing is really fulfilling. When you write the last word, or get a really nice review, or have someone tell you that they had a dream about your story and they need the next chapter now now now!...those are the best moments.
It’s one of those things that makes you really question existence. You are playing God with people and worlds of our own invention. You are learning things about yourself as you continue down this path.
True, there are other things I could have done with my life. Music, video games, cinematography, art. They are all things I enjoy and am good at. But I really, really, really like writing. I couldn’t pinpoint the moment when I started to love it, but at some point over the past six years, I did. My books got steadily longer, steadily better, and I started to realize I had potential. More and more people started reading my work and I got steadily happier.
I would die of boredom and/or depression if I couldn’t write. Maybe a few years ago, it would be different, but I have so fully devoted myself into this life that I couldn’t imagine life without it. I literally start to cry when I think about my life in depth if I couldn’t write. It just...it sucks.
So yeah. Writing is really hard.
But it’s also really worth it.
