Anywhere, But Here

The past week has been both illuminating and depressing. Now I am sitting here with no desire to write, and I am not happy about it. I feel that I may be wasting a lot of time on the wrong things in my journey as a writer.

I have been published many times. In fact, I have over 75 pieces published in books, print magazines, and online literary journals. I am not the best writer, and certainly not the worst. I am honest and realistic. But I want more.

I want to eventually have my poetry and stories published in a book of my work alone. I am not in a rush and am fine with the time it may take. So I always have my nose to the grindstone, seeking new ideas. That’s how I came across writing platforms. I wanted a place to write and share my work while being inspired to expand my style and processes. I also want a discipline I had not needed before I chose this career during my empty-nesting years.

And here I am. I write for several writing platforms; some offer income potential, which is necessary if I am to continue spending money to write. And that seems like the racket these days. Fee-for-service and more subscription fees, with laundry lists of must-dos and hoops to jump through. It’s frustrating and demoralizing.

I mean, let me ask you: if you don’t work and have no income, how on earth are you supposed to pay for apps each year, for editing tools, and for seminars or writing retreats, which are apparently the rage? Now add the fact that you are required to follow and subscribe to everyone possible to become part of a community that doesn’t seem to mean much more than a pile of people under your page who you don’t know, who are trying to make their hopes real, and who are having to do the same.

Yes, they say building a community is the only way to get paying subscribers; paid subscriptions to the platforms are mostly mandatory, so there’s that. But it has gotten to the point where, if you even want to read another author’s contribution to the literary world, you have to pay monthly for that option, or you simply get their mediocre or less impactful work. Those writers’ pages are filled with teasers that lure you into the bank vault before they hit you up for money to finish reading the good parts. This is more discouraging than a rejection letter.

Along with the hunger for rent payers comes the mandatory requirement to read the followers and those you follow, and to make long, thoughtful comments if you want to become part of their circle. Then there are likes, claps, or stars, which are another requirement. When did writing become a high school approval system, where the cooler your friends are, the more friends will come? Didn’t we leave high school and graduate from the click mentality?

Now, the meat and potatoes: the winners aren’t winners because they’ve earned it. They aren’t promoted for being themselves or for writing something important or valuable. No. They’re handpicked from among writers who will comply with their list of demands. The platforms pick winners and losers, not the readers. Your work is censored and must also conform to someone else’s ideology and rhetoric.

I don’t ever remember the old classical writers writing only what they were told was acceptable. The whole, you can write about this and that, but not the other, or you can write about sadness or trauma unless you tell us how bad it was, is limiting in a way that says we don’t care about the real truth or experiences; we just want the kumbaya version. This does not allow a writer to self-express.

Then there is a shiny ring. It dazzles and looks so inviting, but when you hold it, you see it’s made of paste. Oh, you can make income, yes. Some will pay you, yes. But they pay a fraction of a cent to the writers or the people who take the time to edit their work, while they make hundreds of millions of dollars. So who is making money writing? Yeah, not the writer or editor, and in a lot of cases probably not the publications.

Restrictions on top of restrictions compound that conundrum. You can get published and earn something if you use the right Google search terms; you have to toggle this or that and optimize everything, and oh, you have to write for the algorithm, but they won’t tell you what that algorithm is or how to use it. Does the algorithm read buy work? Does it like it? It’s all computing and numbers, not about creativity or the written word.

I am ranting, I know, but today it hit me hard. It stopped me in my tracks and wore me down to nothing.

I look at my emails, which don’t come in the hundreds, and I see a pattern. Writers write hacks for succeeding on one platform or another. Article after article on how-tos and on what you are not doing enough of, or doing too much of, that is hindering success.

Then there are the overwhelming numbers of writers who offer help to newbies. Their taglines or posts give you hope that you don’t have to take this journey blind or alone. And then you see it. You’ve been sucked into following and subscribing to clickbait, which wasn’t supposed to happen. But it does. You click the link to read a story or advice from a wonderful mentor, you think, and you’re slammed with the product. Buy this for the know-how to make money on this or that app. Subscribe for tools or weekly tips; sure ways to improve, earn, grow, and write successfully are all there for your wallet’s enjoyment. There isn’t an altruistic bone in anyone’s body anymore. They’ll help if you pay them or buy their product, tutorial, alchemy, or potions. And then it never stops, because your inbox will be inundated with lures, solicitations, and multiple emails a day, all saying the same basic thing. Buy this or pay this for a leg up on earning some pittance from what you love.

I would ask why, but I know why. It’s all about money. Everyone I have mentioned in this piece is in it for money: plain and simple. And I think that killed my joy today. I’m in full pity-party mode about it.

I started unfollowing those writer-advertisers who profit from creative people trying to do what they love. I won’t feed their banks with mine.

Frankly, it’s insulting that they think nothing of taking money from people who are most likely not earning any money for their work.

I want to write. I need to. It’s what I have: my life experiences, my views, my loves and passions, coupled with the lessons, hardships, and even traumas that fill my pages. I fill those pages to help someone else know they are not alone. It’s me showing someone else with a similar history or set of experiences that they are not alone. I am with them and here to support and encourage them. That is why I write.

Yes, I need to earn money. I can’t do this long-term without income, but all I’ve encountered is that around every corner, someone or something is making it harder or charging me for the next door to open or for permission to write my next sentence.

Reality just kicked my butt. I am on my own, and I’ll have to claw my way, inch by inch, for every piece of road I gain, alone, without a map, until I have no more pennies left or words.

It’s not a good day, but I’ll still be back tomorrow. I need this.

#writing #lifelessons #nonfiction #personalessay #writinglife

(Published by The Inner Catalyst on Medium, July 2026)