Today it’s the same old song without even a new tune.
I want to write, but I don’t think I can. I have quit being a writer more times than I can tell you. But just because you say, ‘I quit!’ doesn’t make the ideas go away or stop coming for that matter. Writing for me feels like an unwanted obsession. It seems like I’d rather do anything but write, even with these story ideas lingering in my head.
I feel there’s a standard people must qualify for in order to be a writer and I fit none of them. Above all else, I lack discipline. Over the years I’ve read about people who will wake up an hour before everyone else in the house to spend an hour writing. Even one of my dearest and best friends is able to stay up til as late as 2 a.m. writing. I am unable to do either because I barely function after crawling out of bed most mornings (unless I’m “sleeping in” at the weekend) and staying up that late would make me completely non-functional if I had to get up for work.
My writing style (if one can really call it that) is to know the basic parts of the story before I begin so that it takes me a few years to actually commit to writing a story idea. I’ve tried the tactic of just beginning the story and everything else will flow. But it doesn’t. At least not for me. I’ve never even had a “relationship” with any of my characters to the point of them taking over the telling of the tale. Even my current one who is based on me.
Why do I write then? I wish I knew. This is about the only dream I’ve ever had and I don’t really want it. Yet if I don’t have it, I have nothing else.