I love meeting up with friends and acquaintances from my previous life -the one where I was a slightly more stressed out/highly strung version of my current self- but I hate the question that I am routinely asked by them:
“So what about you, are you still writing?”
Or maybe the question doesn’t bother me so much, and it’s just the answer that I have come to loath. Because the truthful answer is:
“No. No I’m not writing.”
Of course, I don’t tend to say that. I tend to soften it by saying, “Not really, [*INSERT GENERIC EXCUSE HERE*].”
And while I know that the excuses are all true (I have been busy with college lately; it has been draining me of all my productive energies; I am just focusing on getting through my degree in media and nightmares), it still doesn’t make the answer any easier to live with, because that’s the line of many would-be-but-not-quite writers.
True writers write DESPITE the many excuses and reasons not to. So at the moment I’m not a true writer, despite my wrist tattoo* which tries desperately to claim otherwise.
I watched a TED Talk recently about how we need to focus on adapting our behaviours in order to achieve our goals, so I guess that’s really what I have to start doing. This rant-writing/blogging system is a good start (at least I’m writing everyday!), but I definitely need to go bigger.
It’s all about carving out the time to write, and I mean properly write, but also overcoming the huge fear that I may have lost whatever talent I once had; the fear that college has sucked all of my creativity dry.
I guess we’ll find out once I carve out some hours alone with my pen.
*A quill tattoo, and my first ink experience. I got this tattoo very shortly after I dropped out of college (the first time) to remind me of my ultimate goal: to earn a living as a writer.
Someday. I’ll get there.