I’ve always written for self-fulfillment more than anything else. This I’ve said a gajillion times, and nothing’s going to change that. It’s been almost four years since I’ve been considering publishing, and I’ve been faced with many highs and many lows. I understand it all comes with the territory of writing. It’s no easy feat to plot and write a book. And I thoroughly admire those who do it prolifically.
It’s been getting easier with my second child being a toddler, to find more time to write, and that I’ve been doing relentlessly. I have many storylines outlined and plotted waiting to be worked on. Last December, I told myself no more BS. I need to really get these stories out of my head and uniformed into a readable format.
It’s been going well so far, but I’ve been feeling like giving up. It’s not fear of rejection that’s been causing this, it’s lack of passion. Most of the stories I’ve been working on since has some kind of romance surrounding it, whether it be fantasy, paranormal or just contemporary. Honestly, I’m not feeling it anymore.
Some days I wake up and I feel exhausted of writing romance, like it’s not for me. Like it’s not what I want to produce. Don’t get me wrong, these stories are near and dear to my heart and I’ve spend so much time invested in them, but I just can’t help but think I should venture into another genre. I’ve always plotted other kinds of stories, being a horror fan, specifically based around paranormal and supernatural. But I never took it as seriously as I take my contemporary storylines.
I think I need a time out and it’s driving me insane. I’ve been working so hard these last three months and I can’t type those little two words yet, “The End.” I feel incompetent in a field that I’ve always loved and enjoyed being a part of. Pieces of myself are withering away just thinking about giving up.
Stories are my passion, and will always be.
I hope everyone’s having an amazing and productive weekend thus far.