I have been unable to write because it isn’t fun for me anymore.
In recent times, whenever I tried to write, a ton of voices in my head would stop me. I remembered what different friends of mine had said, and I would chastise myself as I wrote. “Don’t use so many pronouns!” “Adverbs show you’re an amateur!”
That person doesn’t like this type of sentence. This person despises that kind of plot.
It isn’t my own work anymore. It isn’t my inspiration. It’s just me worried that I’m going to offend someone.
And I know writing isn’t supposed to be about that. I also know that none of my friends would want to see me feeling this way, so I am just putting this stress on myself.
I do want to clarify that I’m not talking about constructive criticism I have received from editors and peers. They have helped me grow in so many ways. I’m mainly talking about the discussions I see my friends have in what is good writing and what is bad writing.
There is another issue, however. I think I’m also discouraged by some negative experiences that my friends and I have had in this industry. And yes, I realize that there will be bad apples in every bunch, in every industry you can think of.
I’m specifically talking about incidents where readers will attend FB events and enter giveaways just to get the free gift, not participate in the book event, and when they win, return it to Amazon to get credit. I’d discovered one of my friends was taking money from fellow authors and deleting anyone who asked about it. There were also authors who talked down at their peers because they think they know everything. I know a couple people like this – none of them are my FB friends – and they make you feel like you have to get their express written consent for every detail in your life, even though you don’t know them.
So, between all these things, I just can’t write anymore.
I am sure my inspiration is still there somewhere; it’s just buried under all these voices and leftover negativity from these experiences. I don’t know what to do about it.
Of course, my experiences aren’t all bad. In fact, most of them are good. I have met so many incredible authors and have been fortunate enough to work with some of them. They are there for each other in so many ways. They are talented as hell and are extremely nice to me. They have been very generous with me as well, and I will never forget their kindness.
So, this post isn’t meant to pooh-pooh the publishing industry. I am an extremely emotional individual, and the slightest negativity affects me greatly. I think it has been building up for these past four years and has finally erupted.
This isn’t a permanent feeling, either. At least, I don’t think so. I just need to wait until this negativity in me subsides before I can pick up the reins again.
This, right here, is exactly why I never became a translator, even though I’d wanted to be one since I was a teenager. I’d believed that it would have killed my love of languages, and now I’m thinking I was right.
I am not a competitive person either. I just want to do something because I enjoy it. That’s all.