Writing Doesn’t Pay

stressed-out-writer

To my fellow bloggers, aspiring authors, and self-published authors:

It’s the truth, and it’s frustrating.  No one pays you to write.  No one pays you for being creative, or for working hard at what you love, to become better and better until you’re the best you can possibly be.  We spend minutes, hours, days, perfecting our craftsmanship of writing.  We carefully build and chisel every sentence until our writing sounds and looks exactly the way we want it to.  In our own little world, the world that we create, everything is going according to plan.

And hardly anyone else will ever know about it.

There’s something about being a writer that seems incredibly depressing and lonely, if you really stop to think about it.

We can have god-like creativity; we erect mountains, dig valleys, create cultures, carefully craft every facet of our own made-up society; we pour every bit of our own identity into our writing, and we would just DIE for someone to notice it.

And then no one does.

Other stories suddenly seem unworthy in our eyes.  “My idea is better,” we think.  Or “This person’s writing sucks.”  In a world where every author is fighting for attention, how can we not grow competitive?

I don’t know what the point of this post is.  Perhaps it is just to express and share my feelings with other bloggers (and I KNOW you’re out there).  I’m not trying to dampen anyone’s mood.

The truth is, every author must cultivate hope.  That’s the only way we can finish what we started; that’s the only way we can reach the goals we want.

Do you mind if I quote something I wrote in a story, back in 2013?

“You’re right.  You cannot do anything.  You are powerless.  I was powerless.  There was nothing that I could have done to save you by my own strength.  But power and strength, inner power and strength, are not things that can be created by man.  These must be given to him.  Even as a man, at the height of your physical strength, your own power isn’t enough to save this world from destruction.  Your own power cannot save the life of one woman, even one that you hold dear.  You are human, Earyis, and as am I.  But in this world, hope is not lost.  Hope—” Terren shook his head, sighing with evident stress and anxiety, as if remembering something horrible or difficult he had experienced “—hope must be surrendered to.  You have no strength, no power, so you must surrender yourself to the hope that it will be given.  Aid will come, and even in your darkest hours, when you cannot find the light, when it should be breaking through the clouds, or shining on the horizon, but it does not, you must hope that it will come…For without hope, Earyis, there is only despair, and where there is despair, there is death.”

-The Dawn of Despair

Cheers to hope!  Feel free to vent your own blogging/writing struggles in the comments!

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