Sisyphean Anonymous.

One of the things I love most about being a writer is that some experiences can be shared by anyone who chooses to spend their time honing their craft regardless of whether or not they are traditionally published or even make a living doing what they do. During my life, I have found that the writing experience is one that we can all share, providing that we have the desire to create literary art.

With this desire, however, comes a paradoxical quirk. A quirk that is shared by writers both paid or unpaid, traditionally published, and self-published. It is the paradox of having an idea that you become enamoured with. An idea that makes you so excited that you can’t wait to shut the world away and open up a new document. And then, by some freakish act of God. Finding that same idea to be far less exciting than it was before. Almost to the point where it becomes repugnant to you. So repugnant that you end up either abandoning the idea or you keep it in limbo for years. The idea that you wanted the world to see. Becomes the furthest thing you want to do, and the last thing on your mind.

What is the deal with that?

I don't know about you, but when I get this feeling, it's enough to completely shake me to my very foundation. I look myself in the (metaphorical) mirror and wonder what the hell is I'm doing to myself. Why on Earth do I torture myself with the desire to be something more, when becoming that thing becomes so hard to do that you wonder if it is part of you. And not some. Ridiculous notion in your head that serves only to trick you into believing some lie that you’re telling yourself? It’s a torturous phenomenon that seems to only get more potent with age and experience. I find my life moving forward at a snail's pace. With every passing day, I find myself getting older. Yet the dream of being a writer seems as fresh and prospective as it did when I wrote my first short film aged 18. And with just as much to show for it.

With all this being said, how do we manage? And more importantly, why do we go on?

Of course, the answer is as subjective as any topic regarding creativity. Your reason for going on will be as personal to you as mine is to me. Maybe you can’t even think of a good reason. Perhaps you go on simply because that is what you must do. Perhaps you have something to prove to yourself or someone else. Whatever the reason is. There seems to be a mysterious force within us that causes us to keep going with our cockamamy dreams despite sometimes finding it physically impossible.

If I look inward, I would say my reasons are as mysterious to me as the cause of most of my troubles. There have been many times where I have considered giving up and nestling myself within the warm bosom of my blessed life. Safe in the knowledge that all I have to do is earn money and build my home in time for the winter. But every single time I find myself right back in front of the great white expanse that is page one of a new project.

Sure, I could give up and get on with the rest of my life safe in the knowledge that everything will be OK. But I know that if I did do that, then I would surely have reduced my chances of success by orders of magnitude compared to if I just keep buggering on. And I’m that realisation, the dream stays alive.

So, the next time you find yourself with a loss of motivation, and you find yourself wondering why on earth you want to continue. Remember, you might not have a say in the matter.

All my love,

D.C.