So, I haven’t written in this blog for awhile and this week I’m writing every day. Call it a time for reflection or whatever, but sometimes you just need to write. I am well aware that I could get paid for my blogging or some other writing, but I don’t always do it. I guess I don’t really support all ads. The idea is that I write because it’s what I do, but a lot of the time I question why I do it at all.
I mean, I don’t hate writing or anything. I just wonder what it really all comes down to. Essentially, most of what I write is written on the basis that it is free or not paid (pretty much the same thing). Upon reading an op-ed today in The New York Times (from a few days ago) about writers who don’t get paid, I realized that all writers do it at some point. While the writer, Tim Kreider, almost begged younger writers to not write for free I began to realize that really not much has changed. Like, sure journalism has grown and evolved along with technology and social media. This does not mean that the role of being a writer, a task that requires someone who can write and is willing to do so, has changed.
This is essentially where the great struggle comes in. What are the choices that can be made? What can I do to find something I would want to actually do? The answer is that you can’t. Mostly, because when you’re not on a strict deadline you actually do tend to enjoy writing and what it does for you. In this way, you can end up hating what you do. I think this goes for a lot of professions though. If you do push yourself to do your best every time with the tendency to want to get more out of something, it’s really not going to be awesome. That’s the way it goes though, I suppose. We can’t always do the things we want to do, sometimes we just have to do things we hate to somewhat enjoy what we do. There will not always be a happy solution and that’s unfortunately a hard reality.
I can’t say I know what I’m doing. I want to write. Maybe a book. Yes, for sure I would like to write books and such. I’m about to start nanowrimo (the task of writing a novel in a month, 50,000 words). So, there is the writer in me. Wanting more, seeking more but knowing more won’t come to me so quickly. I may very well be stuck in a rut for some time, but I still think that writing is all I can do. I know no other job. I can volunteer, maybe teach, but really it must involve writing and communication to some extent.
Honestly, until I find the need to stop writing and stop being sad about not having a real job (not happening anytime soon) then I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing. Which is write, read, and then mentally freak out about the future.
But, that’s just me. Everyone has their own problems and their own struggles (unless your a writer).