Being a writer is sometimes a depressing choice. It’s just one of those things that anyone who’s a writer can tell you, but sometimes we don’t want to admit. You get discouraged. A lot. And unlike other careers, there’s usually no one else in the “office” to vent to. You can talk online to friends, meet with a crit group (even better) but at the end of the day, when you’re sitting there staring at the screen, its just you.

Maybe it’s because you’re hunting for an agent and they’re all rejecting you. Maybe they’re giving you helpful reasons. Maybe they’re just giving you the “I didn’t fall in love with it” reasoning. Valid, but unbelievably frustrating as a writer. You can’t fix that. There’s no wording to change, plot holes to spackle, or characters to round out. There’s just this opinion, and all you can do is swallow the scream of frustration and smile.

It’s important to remember you aren’t alone. All writers have those periods when it feels like they’re failing. Even when they have books coming out or they look, on the surface, like everything’s peachy.

I struggle with this. There are a lot of reasons. But I wonder sometimes if the amount of time I devote to writing is worth it. I could be doing other things. Going out. Focusing on other hobbies. Spending time with my fiancé. But I love to write. Sometimes we fight. Sometimes I storm out of the room, but I always come back.

I think choosing writing as a career is a bit like gardening. You plant something, start something, and wait. You water it; change the light, the heat, and the conditions. Sometimes you hit it just right and the seed takes off, produces fruit and is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, it sprouts and withers. Even worse, sometimes nothing happens and you don’t know why, and may never be able to figure out the reasoning.

But you always come back and try again, because when it works, its glorious. So don’t forget the moments when it’s all in bloom and fabulous.

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