Am I really a writer? I’m not convinced. I write. I blog. But I can’t seem to finish anything I start unless it’s flash fiction or a short story. Even the short stories aren’t spectacular. I don’t think I am a crappy writer. But is it time to give up on pretending I could get published?
Current works in progress (all far from complete) include two vampire novels, a memoir, a script, a Young Adult fantasy. I started an online journal a few months ago called “Mythic Mashups.” I’m horrible at networking and social media. I do better as a supporting contributor. So, that has failed.
I write poetry sometimes, but who really likes poetry these days? Or, I should say, who reads it? I know there is a community and some publishers accept poetry. My poetry is not beautiful, meandering masterpieces about nature. I mainly write stream of consciousness stuff.
All my blogs turn into rants or negative venting.
I know no one reads these, so it’s therapeutic in a way. I’m pouring my thoughts out and then pushing them into the interwebs void.
So, I’m at a crossroads, wondering if I should go back to reading and reviewing and stop writing. The problem is, if I don’t write, it bothers me, makes me feel sad. So, maybe that means I’m supposed to write.
I already decided that I would write for myself and stop trying to impress anyone. So maybe I will reinforce that again to myself and just do what I want, when I want. It would be nice to finish something, though.
Writing with a group of people has been a learning experience. I have been able to complete very short stories that way, writing and roleplaying as famous characters, like with Legends of the Veil.
Mental health must be mentioned. I am sure depression has affected my productivity. Still, people have issues all the time and push through to write successfully.
You would think since COVID I would have gotten a lot more done, being inside every day. What a perfect opportunity to focus on writing and finish some stories. But nope. I guess I’ll keep trying… the only option, right?