Sometimes, Being a Writer Really Sucks
When you put yourself out there like that, there is always some small fear of rejection
In the Fall semester of my Freshman year of college, my favorite class was “College Writing 1” — I’m actually not entirely sure if that’s the exact name, but it was something along those lines.
Throughout the course of my college experience, my favorite classes always ended up being the ones where I had to complete some sort of open-ended writing piece or a long-form essay. I was never a good test-taker no matter how long or hard I studied.
When it came to multiple-choice questions, I always second-guessed myself. I took too long going back and forth between the options by attempting to rationalize my reasoning behind a specific answer. I much rather preferred explaining things through words rather than selecting a single response without any written argument (regardless of whether or not I was correct).
I think this is why I always gravitated towards classes that graded students upon their open-ended responses. Rather than arriving at a proper “true of false” conclusion, I was much more involved in the process that went into a long-form response. I was more intrigued by the details of the response and the way that it was presented. I enjoyed reading and writing the flow of written words.
However, I didn’t graduate with anything resembling a degree in Writing. As a matter of fact, I graduated with quite the opposite of a Bachelor of Arts — Instead, I completed my studies with a Bachelor of Science, concentrated in Exercise Science.
After graduating college, I pursued a corporate career which ironically landed me in the Publishing Industry, but it was nowhere near the editorial side of things.
You’d think that I would have shaken off my enjoyment in writing after had graduated, but that wasn’t the case. I continued writing purely for the sake of writing. I did not seek out writing as a profession, nor did I desire any compensation for it.
But, I still did it because it was simply something I loved to do. I created a personal Wordpress blog, contributed articles that went unpaid, and published on multiple online platforms.
Most of the time, I didn’t think anyone was reading what I had to say, but to my surprise, there were people out there who were.
I began calling myself a Writer a few years ago when I realized that people viewed me as such. The thing is, I never viewed myself as one because writing never paid my bills. It wasn’t my full-time job. I was never published in any major magazines, newspapers, or journals. I never wrote a book nor am I well-known or famous within the world of authors.
I just write things on the internet.
This is what sucks about being a writer. Like any artist, you do it out of the pure necessity to do it. You don’t care if anyone is watching. You are simply expressing yourself because you can.
But, when you put yourself out there like that, there is always some small fear of rejection — a fear of not being accepted for who you are or that you are not good enough by the standards of those who are similar to you. And there always comes a time when you may ask yourself, “What’s the point?”
Sometimes, there is no point. You just need to get it out.