I’ve been bitten by the lack of motivation bug lately. By lately I mean, well, most of this year so far, barring the super productive month I had of April and the two months before that where I was as sick as a dog and couldn’t even sit up to look at my computer. The point is, my May and June should’ve both been as productive as April, but they’re totally not. And I’m a little pissed off about it.
I know people get discouraged a lot in life. Most people have to just keep pushing no matter what, and I’m definitely on the luckier side in which I won’t starve and be homeless even if I don’t do much. I mean I won’t be rich by any means, but I can get by. And that just makes me feel really, really bad. Like I’m a leech on society. My work is definitely self-motivated, and there are so many people who work so hard and see absolutely zero recognition in the field of writing (and no money whatsoever). I’m accepting of that; I don’t expect fame and I don’t expect J.K. Rowling level of money. Hell, I don’t expect Gregory Maguire level of money and fame (I don’t actually know how much Gregory Maguire makes, I assume much less than Rowling but still significant. Plus, he’s a name people have heard of, and if you haven’t, well, he wrote the book the Broadway musical Wicked was based on.) I don’t expect fame at all, with maybe enough money to scrape by, but that’s not what I’m angry about. There’s a huge difference between you finish a book, get it published, and it doesn’t sell well; and you never finish the book in the first place, and you’re afraid of even picking up the damn, metaphorical pen.
I know people who’re passionate about their projects and their jobs who live and breathe the stuff. I wish I could just devote myself to the project, like those folks do, 24/7. It’s stressful just thinking about the work right now, and I’m not sure what exact steps I can take to address this. You know my husband once did say that maybe I’m actually more suited to a more traditional job, and if that’s the case, too late now! There’s nowhere to go but forward, even though every steps is more (mentally) painful than the last, and I can’t really see the end any time soon.