As a writer, I feel it comes with many hardships. The perks are amazing, and it is a great conversation starter. Unfortunately, those who do not write will never understand the tribulations. With that being said, I’d like to share some of the many cons of being a writer.
- If you fell in love with someone in the past and he/she is gone from your life, you will quickly realize that the person never, truly, left you. An ex boyfriend, an old best friend, you name it, they come up in some way shape or form in your writing
- To piggyback off of the first con – Just because I write about an old relationship (both romantic and platonic), it does not mean I am still in love with you.
- People will have negative things to say about your work. This one always gets me because I understand that my writing isn’t every reader’s cup of tea… I just so badly want my writing to be every reader’s cup of tea.
- People often ask about the story I am currently writing. When I proceed to describe my latest piece, they zone out from the conversation. Do not think I can’t see it in your eyes. I can. Please do not ask me if you don’t really care. Just because I am writer that doesn’t mean you have to request my latest work.
- Sleeping is optional. I find that my best ideas come in two places: in the shower or in the middle of a sleep cycle. When in the shower, I always keep my phone and a towel nearby so I can type a few notes. When sleeping, I will always wake up to write down dreams, thoughts, and in some cases, short stories! A few weeks ago I had an incredible idea for a story while drifting in and out of sleep. I decided that sleep was not nearly as important as my writing.
- Writer’s block. This shouldn’t need an explanation.
- “Where have you been published?” – Well, okay here’s the thing…. It’s not that simple. That question is unfair because if I say, “No one has published me, yet” or “INSERT UNKNOWN MAGAZINE NAME HERE,” you’re going to assume I am an awful writer. Save me from embarrassment and just stop asking that question.
- I am not Hemingway… yet.