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Writers Block: The Never Ending Struggle

The Struggle To Write

By Stephanie RosasPublished about a year ago 3 min read
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Writers Block: The Never Ending Struggle
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I love to write. Since I was a little girl I have had a passion for writing. Being told as a child that there wasn't "much of a future for a writer", I kept writing as an outlet and a hobby. I've continued to write as an adult, but I write inconsistently meaning I have endless pieces of papers with a variety of random ideas and sentences that would probably make no sense to anyone who read it. I also have an overwhelming number of half written journals because for some reason or another I always stop and begin scribbling in a new notebook. I have the desires and ideas to write a variety of books. Books of all kinds; I have a children's book in mind inspired by my own two daughters and my dog. I have an idea for a self help book about parenting and discipline and another book idea regarding overcoming adversity. I've even attempted writing an autobiography where I share my childhood traumas and journey to finding spirituality. In fact, I have so many ideas that even my poor Vocal account has seen quite a few dozen articles drafted up too. They range from review like articles of music, movies, and food to advice and motivation for battling depression and anxiety and motherhood. The ideas flow infinitely across my head. My problem is I hardly come to finish any of the pieces I write. Call it crippling perfectionism or Imposter Syndrome, no matter how hard I try to write and finish, I stop myself before the end. Part of the reason being that I critique myself too harshly, but I mean, I know that it's not good enough so why even finish? I know I am too hard on myself and know that I have to put myself out there in order to improve. Yet, as I write I feel the passion fade away and tension and pressure build up inside me instead. As I reread what I wrote, I feel embarrassed for myself. It's too amateur, too sloppy; I sound pathetic. It's as if I have a standard for myself that I can't seem to meet mostly because I don't know what it is. So for years now I have claimed I have Writer's Block, the ongoing and never ending issue I seem to posses. I used to blame the lack of time to be the cause for my writer's block. I thought if I could dedicate enough time to sit and write in one moment then the problem would stop. However, frankly, I have the time now, yet I can barely finish a piece without feeling defeated and inadequate. I thought spending more time reading would also help me, but instead anxiety grows as I realize the talent many writers have that I seem to lack. I've created goals to help motivate me to write, but more often than not I avoid them to avoid the pressure of writing something I am unhappy with. The true irony of it all is that writing is suppose to be a form of expression. You see, I understand that there really isn't a "correct" way to write. Grammar, punctuation, and syntax are generally preferred, but technically it's not necessary. Just as art can range in beauty depending on who sees it, writing works the same way. There is suppose to be freedom in writing, but I as much as I seem to comprehend the concept, I very hypocritically struggle with breaking myself away from what I truly believe: that I am not a good enough writer. In the end of the day my writer's block is nothing more than the part of me that just wishes I didn't do this. The part of me that is afraid of failing and remaining inadequate. But today, that part of me did not win. Today regardless of fears I felt and the imperfections I saw, I pushed to do what my writer's block did not want me to do: write.

Bad habitsHumanity
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About the Creator

Stephanie Rosas

just your average writer writing about stuff.

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