The problem with being a writer

As I hope I’ve made clear recently through my writings, I like to write. If you don’t know by now, it’s a goal of mine to be able to call myself a writer and actually feel like I’ve earned the title. While there are many options open to me as to what career to pursue after college, only three of them consistently make the list, and getting paid to write is one of them (the others two are to be a pilot, or to… okay, there’s really only two I like all of the time).

The problem with being a writer is that you actually have to write things. Now, for many in the profession, that seems to be no problem at all. I can point to countless writers who are more faithful and more prolific at their writing than I. It seems like they never have the shortage of words that I experience so often. Honestly, I think the problem lies more in the fact that I don’t like to write unless I feel that 1) I have something worth listening to, and 2) I can write about that thing in a fresh and creative way. The last thing I want is to write things that feel like form letters.

So when I decide to write something, I usually start the process one to two hours ahead of when I actually login to my website and start typing. First of all, I start my standard evening routine of checking my email, and then heading straight here. I check for any new comments that may be there, and then look at what I last wrote and when it was written. Eventually there comes a day, much like today, where I decide it’s been too long between posts, and I must write again or ultimately lose the readership I so desparately want. So now that I’ve decided it’s time to write again, I leave my website and follow my links to all the other blogs I read, and keep up with what other people are busy saying. Then I usually get distracted by something, and do it for the next couple hours.

Okay, so two hours have gone by and we’re back to my undistracted self. It’s past midnight, I would rather be sleeping, and yet my desk light is on and I feel my website beginning to stare darts at me. There’s this little guy, and he starts whispering into my ear about how I’m not actually a writer and how terribly long it’s been since there have been any meaningful serifs or sans-serifs gracing my front page. So naturally I begin to write to disprove the little guy, working harder and harder to be creative and unique. Yes, I want to have my own “style” and have people say things like, “I like the way he writes,” or, “He’s got a unique style,” but then again, I don’t.

So I end up writing things that have absolutely no meaning whatsoever, such as the previous few paragraphs, or the thing about lemon water, or whatever. Hopefully I’ll one day start writing things that are insightful, or meaningful, or maybe I’ll get lucky and actually write something that makes you ask questions you’ve never asked before. Not that I can impart any sort of revelation of my own, but I do feel like God is always revealing himself if I’m looking for him, and I hope that I am focused enough on him day by day to actually grow in my knowledge of him. God gave mankind a wonderful thing called a mind, and with it we have the ability to think and ask questions and search for truth, and normally when I write it’s nothing more than all of those things coming out in words–I’m just trying to share my thoughts and feelings with you.

I have hundreds of topics and ideas and thoughts to write about, but I can’t seem to get a single darn thing out; this latest article a case in point. Once again, I have another relatively useless article on my hands. But I will also say that God made us to enjoy humour and entertainment, and I hope at the very least I’ve captured a little of both. Maybe not. But hey, at least the little guy is happy again.