Friends, I think it’s high time I admit defeat. It’s been a long journey to this point. Five years ago when I sat down and decided to get serious about this writing thing, I was happily oblivious.
Writing was still fun back then. Writing hadn’t sapped the joy from everything else yet. Writing hadn’t become ONE MORE THING I had to get done in a day. Daily word count goals weren’t something to feel guilty about not meeting.
Having a life, interests and hobbies outside of reading and writing weren’t something to feel guilty for enjoying.
I’m tired of feeling like a BAD PERSON for not writing. For not reading. I long for the days when reading was a pleasure and a joy, not one more thing I should be doing.
All this to say that I am walking away. Forever? I don’t know. It could be forever, it could be for a month or two. Probably at the very least, until next year.
But frankly, I may never write again. Why should I when I’m no good at it, as people are all too fond of telling me.