I want to quit. But then I don't.

I just got home from w- don't even want to say the word. I left around 11 hours ago at 07:40 AM (it's 6:40 PM now) and that's only because I was able to leave earlier and catch an earlier train. Usually I get home at 7 PM.

I want to quit.

It's not just the sh*tty dayjob. It's the depression and constant boredom that comes with it. Do you know what else? It's the time I don't have if I want to live a life. I am supposed to get up around 06:40 AM if I'm to make the 08:02 train. I'm supposed to go to sleep early... but then where is the life?

I try to squeeze writing in whenever I can (such as now). I get up at 05:00 - 05:30 in the morning for that extra hour and it's f*cking damn hard. (PS: I don't like to swear). It means 7 hours of sleep - or 6 if I still want to have a life and, you know, hobbies.

Yes, many people are going through this. I'm sure. But I'm not many people.

Ok, but, you're talking about writing here, yes? So what's the point of this rant? What has this to do with writing?

Everything.

The dayjob leaves me drained and tired and I just want to curl up underneath the blankets in the 160x200 cm bed and stay there until it all ends. But then... writing.

I get to my desk, which is a safe zone or, let's call it refuge, for me. There's papers all over, drafts from years ago, drafts from minutes ago, some printed out, some scribbled in notebooks, and on top of it all, my kindle. And another notebook (this one half the size of the others). And a green pen. And a blue pen. And another half-size notebook. And my cup. The cup. And my nail clippers (because I don't have the time to go the bathroom to clip my nails.) (PS: don't worry though, the nails, once cut, all get thrown away, properly. I'm not a complete... I'd say pig, but pigs are actually very clean animals.)

Anyway...

This is my safe zone, but until I get there, life sucks.

And then there's the constant doubt about myself

I feel like I'm not good enough, not smart enough. In 2012 I wrote 5 books (a series of 5, about 100k-160k words each) and started 2-3 more drafts. In 2013 and 2014 I wrote about 2-3 books and started some more drafts. In 2015 I managed 1 or 2 books and some short stories. I'm mostly happy with those short stories (also available to read here: ?) and I've struggled to make some of the books work (especially the earlier ones). I finally decided this is it (several times) and dropped those ancient drafts to write something new.

In 2016 and 2017 I did about 1 full book each and several first drafts / new edits of old books. I also wrote more short stories. (Most of which still need to be edited.)

I'm getting to the point where my first drafts are pretty lean. They're understandable (even by people who are not me) and the prose is quite all right. But it's the edits that make me despair. How do I fix something that's broken?

I don't feel like I'm smart enough to do it. I've tried, with those books from 2012, and I'm trying every year. I went through another round just a while ago... but it never works out. Is the trick to drop these and do new projects? Edit something 'younger'? But even then, I'm afraid to fail. I've been putting it off and reading self-help books (some of which are quite good) and writing craft books (still working on a list resource of the best books I found to publish on here) and I've recently started to read 'The Artful Edit' by Susan Bell. I'm 10% in and quite excited.

But most of all, I've started the edit on a project I haven't touched in two years. That's hard and it's harsh, but with the experience (all the failed things) I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's still hard. I'm now beating myself up because... what if I don't manage to get it up to speed? What if this will be another dropped project? It might be. I want to be realistic. I'll waste away at the dayj- even longer.

And then what?

I have other things to edit, it's true.

But what if none of them work? I'm already drained.

What if?

You know what if?

I'll get up even earlier (though not all the time) and I'll edit more. And more. And I'll edit more after that. And more.

And at some point, hey, it has to work, right?

Just like I once got a nice comment instead of a standard rejection back from a short story anthology.

And if it doesn't work? Well, f*ck that. It has to work, and if it doesn't, I'll still do it, because my desk is my safe space, and this is what I chose to do.

JMT


(PS: Hope you have a better day than me! Cheers)