Wednesday, 3 April 2019

Excuses excuses

I've been making a lot of excuses not to write lately. I could bore you with them, I'm even making them in my head now, but they all boil down to a recently discovered terrible problem with procrastinating and a feeling that in order to actually be a writer again, I need to be employed as a writer.

It would seem that the logic of actually writing something was lost on me.

This morning I'm lying in bed, having recently moved from the strange chair/table hybrid I've been using as a desk where I was opening tab after tab after tab of job applications that I have no desire to apply for. I even wrote myself a list of why I struggle yesterday, with the main points being my lazy ass is fed up of sending out job applications. Job hunting and dating are feeling very similar at the moment, completely pointless.

A lot of my problem at the moment is that I'm scared. What if I never get the have the career I crave so badly? All, and I mean all, I want to do is write. Once I start and really get into it it's like my fingers no longer need me, and they simply tap away producing all the words, phrases and sentences that need to be said. I'd like to think that I don't need the validation of employment to be proud of what I do, but right now I'm really not so sure.

Another issue I have with job searching is that doing what you love in a capacity that you don't like quite as much, be it in a new format, for a different platform or working the dreaded 9-5 that I'm sorry I've tried and I find soul destroying, is that it has the tendency to replace your enjoyment with feelings of obligation. When you've spent all day doing what you love for someone else, doing it for yourself becomes difficult.

As always, what I need to do is stop thinking. To let the words just come and not pressure myself into applying for things that fill me with nerves and nausea. I'm going to New York next week, fingers crossed getting out the city will help.


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