Writer’s Laze.

Well, I suppose I’m alienating all those with a creative mind when I call it writer’s laze. I think it’s something any writer or artist goes through at any given time in their process. It doesn’t mean that you are a lazy person, or a lazy creator, nah, it has a couple of meanings, at least in my mind. Now, on a daily basis I can be lazy as fuck. I’ll be honest, there are days where I see the pile of laundry in the corner, have nothing to do, yet put it off. There are times where I’ll watch something on TV because I can’t be bothered to get the remote on the other side of the room, but when it comes to writing, it’s a whole different thing.

I think a part of it is seeing the blank page, or the empty space below what I’ve already got that daunts me. Currently I’ve got a story on the go, it’s about half way done – give or take – but I’ve hit the point where I want to write it, I know what to write, I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’ll sit there and stare at the screen and just look at it. If I manage to start writing, and that’s a big if, I feel like what I’ve got down there is garbage, and despite me still hitting my daily goal for word count, I’ll feel very blah about it, as if I’ve accomplished nothing. Defeated by the blinking cursor.

It’s frustrating when these waves hit. I know that if I didn’t go through this minor crisis that I could conquer my story and move onto the next step, or onto something else even. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I’ve got a lot of stuff going on. Work, wedding planning, novella, side project with the artist I talked about in the last post, modelling, and next week I start some classes as the job I have now isn’t really secure at all. It seems I live parts of my life with back-ups upon back-ups, never really with a firm goal in mind. That could play a role in the laze as well.

Most people have a defined goal they want to achieve in life. It doesn’t always have to be career orientated, but for a good chunk I think it is. I want to do something where I feel that I’m useful, and what I’m doing has some impact on something I care about. I don’t care about what I do now, and I’ll admit, I’m not the best worker in that case. But when I have a drive and motivation to succeed, God damn, watch out. I don’t admit to being good at anything, but I’ll admit to trying my hardest when I need to, or when I feel I’m being utilized properly. But when it comes to goals, I’m not sure mine are realistic anymore.

I’m 28 years old. It’s not old, per-se, but I’m not young. I don’t feel my life has fully started yet, let alone reached full swing, and here I am going back to school for the umpteenth time because I’ve failed at everything else I’ve tried, and I think this time will be different. I can only hope that it will be. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never stop writing. I love it too much – telling stories, creating characters, it’s something I enjoy doing. But, I’m beginning to realize that it’s no longer a viable career choice, or even something more than just a hobby. Who knows though. I keep telling myself that, who knows, and I suppose that’s what’s keeping me going.

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