The hardest part of writing, for me, is having to write while living my ‘regular’ life. You all know what a ‘regular’ life is, right? It’s the one that’s filled with bills and chores and obligations and responsibilities. It’s the one that requires you to be somewhere from 9 am until 5 pm, writing things that are NOT your manuscript, for a bunch a people who don’t care if you ever get published (mostly because they’re busy living their regular life). It’s being a good mother/sister/daughter/girlfriend, when all you want to do is dive into your words and stay there. This ‘regular’ life is what kids today call a bitch-ass hater.
I’m ending the month on a not-so-great note after a surge of creativity. I’m not sure if I burned myself out OR if the regular life infiltrated my brain too much. Surely the $200 rent increase I was just slapped with had a lot to do with it, especially because I noticed this downward spiral started right around the time I had to renew my lease.
I tell you these things because all of this—this worry, this stress, this having to find a new way to cope, a new normal—is all part of the writing process. Your regular life will never quit. Ever. Until, well, you know, you die. So when you’re lurking on my IG, or anyone’s social media pages, and you’re intimidated or made to feel less than by someone’s curated reality, remember this post. I’m a great writer, but I, too, find it hard to get out of bed and deal and put words on a page when my regular life demands attention.
You’ll be alright. We all will.