Stress all affects us in different ways. For some it prevents us from accomplishing our goals or dreams. For others, it can push us to even greater heights than where we currently are. But to a person, everyone has stress in their lives or will do at some point.
It’s how we deal with it that matters.
Being a part time writer, with everything else going on is a pain in the ass.
Getting from part time to full time is my goal. Getting there is the biggest hurdle I think, I have faced in my life. Writing for me comes easily. I know that may stick in anyones throats, that suffers with writer block, but it does. You either write what you love or don’t.
It’s as simple as that to me. Writers block comes from shame.
Shame that you’re not good enough.
Shame that people will hate your work.
Shame that you are baring your soul for people to see, and they may not even be bothered.
No writing was never hard for me, because I never gave a fuck what people think or say. When it came to writing. Because I have an ego when it came to writing. I have a chip on my shoulder to prove to everyone that I am good enough. To prove to everyone that a dyslexic kid, who couldn’t read and write till he was in his early teens, can write a good book.
It was never shame that I felt when I wrote. It was anger. Anger which I used to push me to greater lengths and greater strides, when it came to writing.
No it was never shame that stressed me out when it came to writing.
It is everything else which comes from being a self published author.
Email list building
Facebook Ads (which I still have yet to do)
And the endless other bullshit that you have to deal with, when you’re running a self published author business. Now I know some self published author’s love having all that control. They love being in charge of their domain and I do to.
If When I make it big and some publishing house offers me a big contract, am talking millions and millions here. Then I may take them up on it.
I may not.
But when I dreamed of becoming a writer, doing all this other shit wasn’t in the plans. I envisioned myself sipping cocktails on a sandy beach, swinging in a hammock, typing out my next novel.
But alas, you have to dig the dirt for the ground before you lay the swimming pool.
Anyway, sorry for the rant guys. Just feeling a little stressed.
Can you tell?
Until next time.