As It Turns Out I Do, In Fact, Want To Be A Writer

I'm feeling a sort of dissonance between what I say I want and what I actually do. I say I want to be a writer, yet I spend a majority of my time not writing. It's a bit hypocritical.

How can I actually be a writer if I don't spend a lot of my time writing? It's no wonder my ability is not where I want it to be.

I find that I give into mental block, resistance, or laziness, whichever name you give it, far too easily. I think to myself, 'I'll watch another episode, I'm too tired to write.' Or, 'I've only got 10 minutes, that's not enough time to write.'

I'm sick of making excuses, either I want to be a writer or I don't. And based on my actions over the last 2 weeks it seems that I don't want to be a writer. Sure, I'm in love with the idea of being a writer; the romantic nature of being able to say, 'I am a writer.' But when push comes to shove, lately, I've been wussing out.

It seems, much like most things in life, to come down to a matter of discipline and priorities. Currently my life is perfectly geared towards producing little writing of value. So in order to change that I need to change my priorities and up my discipline. If I change the system and the input, hopefully the output will be what I want.

But it has to be more than just a simple formula, right? Writing has to be more than plug and chug. It's not algebra.

The artist in me wants to refuse that I can make writing easier, or perhaps more accurately, more fruitful, by changing the formula. The artist in me loves the struggle, it loves the dissonance, it loves the self-deprecating conversations that go on in my head; it refuses that a formula even exists.

The rational side of me, however, thinks there has to be a way to encourage better habits and disciplines that will lead to better writing. The rational side says better means will lead to a better end. The artistic side says the art is in the means AND the ends, as messed up as they may be.

And so I find myself spending so much time in my own head, fighting back and forth over which side is correct, that I don't spend time writing.

Today, by the grace of God, I've managed to write this battle out, on the screen, for everyone to read. I'm under no illusions that this writing is incredible, or even good. But I do know one thing, it is writing. And that is a win in and of itself. I sat down, I wrote, and I hit publish.

I shared the truth of what I'm feeling, hopeful that it will resonate with someone else, but confident in the fact that this writing is accurate of where I am today. Despite my recent lapse in writing I do, in fact, want to be a writer, and an excellent one at that. And today I took one step closer to achieving that goal.