If university has taught me anything at this point, it’s that writing is hard. Really hard.
Writing is harder than getting dressed in the middle of winter.
Sometimes you don’t quite know how to start, sometimes you don’t know how to end without sounding like a self help book, and sometimes you find yourself with four different starts to a piece that are all rubbish.
Writer’s block is worse than having to get up to pee at 4am.
Imagine sitting in front of an empty word document for three hours as it taunts and laughs at you. Unfortunately for me, this happens at least twice a week. I can assure you it gets old very quickly.
Writing as an over thinker and perfectionist is harder than having to realise Zac Efron hates the fact that he was in High School Musical.
If you already find writing hard, just add a decent dose of overthinking and a perfectionist, and writing can become pretty damn impossible.
Sometimes I’ll spend a week crying over a piece, only to send it to the rubbish folder on my computer* – a special place that’s home to 200 word documents from my current computer’s sixteen month life span.
Writing a piece with a 600 word limit is worse than smashing your phone screen to the point of no return.
At this point you’ll find me hunched over my keyboard at 10pm (aka my 2am – my bedtime is 8pm), crying whilst I painstakingly rewrite my piece word by word with thesaurus.com on the split screen.
Writing is harder than working in retail over Christmas (actually no you win, but its pretty damn close).
As a well-known over thinker- a trait passed on from my darling father, and a bigger perfectionist than Margaret thatcher, writing is both the biggest pain in my behind and my greatest love – behind Grilld’s summer sunset burger without avocado (aka the snitch in every prison).
Sometimes writing is okay…
Sometimes writing is like an auto piloted activity you don’t need to be checked into. Sometimes you’ll be rocking out to your latest song on repeat, and next thing you know there’s 500 words on your word doc you don’t even recollect writing. It’s even better when the words actually make sense.
Some of my favourite and most popular pieces I’ve ever written I don’t actually remember writing past recognising my fingers flying as I sang along to my latest playlist.
Sometimes people actually like and read what I write, which is kinda cool.
Sometimes I don’t get ‘friends’ telling me I’m rubbish, which is even better.
Sometimes you’ll get an email or a tweet from someone across the world telling you they were inspired by something you wrote, which is pretty crazy and a downright excuse to order a ten pack nugget meal instead of a six pack.
Sometimes, being a writer is fun. Maybe even rewarding. But most of the time it’s rubbish.
The truth is, writing is this: hard and boring and occasionally great but usually not.
– Amy Poehler, “Yes Please”
*A place where this post should have gone to die but I made a stupid self promise to attempt to post regularly**
**Watch as I fail at this as well.