Unless you’ve never met me, you probably know that I harbor a passion for reading and writing, particularly of fiction and fantasy. I was a Creative Writing major while in school, and it was one of the best decisions of my life. Except for at this point where I don’t really know what to do, career-wise, because it’s nearly impossible to support yourself fully as a writer, especially from the get-go. Not to mention that careers in relation to writing are either very hard to come by, due to the competitive and contested nature of the publishing/writing industry, and/or they are based in New York. I don’t particularly want to go live in New York, at least not at this point in life. Too expensive.
What’s worse is that, now that I’ve left school, I’ve found it harder for me to write fiction, namely because I am distracted with trying to find a permanent semblance of work. As well as trying to decide if I want stable, permanent work. Oh, and I’ve been extremely undedicated to writing fiction. I get disheartened too quickly. Alas.
Maybe I should consider memoir. At the very least, I’ve been practicing first person a lot lately, with blogging. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I am a good writer. I love the feeling of being immersed in a story, of creating engaging characters that I want to follow through their adventures and trials. I’ve just had trouble coming up with any story that seems good for the past few years. At least, outside of class. I’ve actually liked quite a few of the stories I submitted to workshops, and it seemed like my fellow writers enjoyed them too. Maybe I just need to find other people to work alongside in the quest of writing anything of substantible length and merit. Maybe I need to go out into the world and find the inspiration that I need to pursue the path of life that I’ve craved for over ten years.
Or maybe I need to just stop making excuses for myself, open up a Word document, and make it happen.
What an absolutely novel concept.