My Creative Writing Is On Hiatus

I’ve been writing creatively since I was in the 6th grade.

It started out with writing “raps” and lyrics because I was a major fan of hip hop music. Soon after, I made the transition to poetry because writing about flashing cars and punchlines didn’t help when you’re going through mental instability. Poetry was better in expressing feelings of loneliness and emptiness.

My writing kept improving. I was easily pushing out imaginative stories for class assignments. “What Did You During The Holidays” essays were boring. I hated writing those because it felt like a chore. But for some reason, my teachers loved my writing and I was rewarded with high marks like 92/100 scores and such.

I kept writing in boarding school. Filling out notebooks full of rhymes and poetry. Always trying to create something better than the last one. I crafted concept albums, writing lines from different character perspectives than my own. I wrote because I was good at it.

I writing fell off a bit during my senior years at school. I didn’t really do anything creatively until I was in my first year at University. A young English lecturer in my first year reignited my writing and I was back to my poetic ways, pushing me to the point where I was reading my poems at poetry slams.

I was actually ready to stop my pursuit of Computer Science and switch to Creative Writing. But after looking at things critically, I realized that careers in Creative Writing weren’t as abundant and stayed the course I was already on. But I didn’t stop writing.

I attempted a short story collection back in 2013. It was called “The Complex Mind Of A Good Kid In A Cruel World”. I self published it through Amazon. Looking back, it wasn’t really good. I was in a bad place when I wrote those short stories. They were full of errors, spelling mistakes, disjointed logic etc. I don’t know why I wanted to get it out so quickly. I think I put too much pressure on myself for whatever reason.

First Short Story Collection. Please don’t read it

But I didn’t stop writing. I knew I could write better. I needed to be in a better space to write and also not put so much pressure on myself.

In 2015, I self published another short story collection called the “The Architect”. It was better than the last one I put out. There were some stories which I thought could have been written better. I had hit a little wall during the writing process but I busted through it nonetheless and put it out.

Second Short Story Collection. Better than the first one

I put out those two books and shared links on my social network. But I realized something: I wasn’t getting any feedback. No one bothered to read or comment on the stories I wrote. I made those books free for a time period. Tried to price it as low as possible. Still nothing.

Despite that, I continued on writing.

In January 2016, I put out my memoir. It was called “The Complex Mind Of A Good Kid In A Cruel World”. I borrowed that title from my first short story collection because the theme was perfect for what I wrote about my life.

My First Memoir

Some people bought the book (didn’t see that coming) and actually gave me props for writing my personal story. That helped. At least, I knew that some people were reading.

I recently picked up writing poetry again. I don’t know why. I just felt this urge to write again. I put together some stuff and decided to self publish again. I put out some of my poetry collection and called it “Lonely Nights and Heartbreaks”. I put it out in January of this year (2017).

Again, like the previous books, I didn’t get feedback.

So now here we are. Four self published books on Amazon. Also, a dormant wordpress site I recently reactivated where I put my short stories and poems.

Sometimes I describe myself as a writer even though it doesn’t feel right. I can say I’m an author because I have published books. But it doesn’t feel right.

For the past few weeks, I’ve felt like my brain is on lockdown. I try to write and it feels like I’m in a car with a beat up engine that’s struggling to work. I still manage to put out little pieces of writing here and there. Once in a while, I get inspired and write a poetry piece and dump it on my social media pages.

But in all honesty, it all feels empty.

Maybe it’s because I’m not getting feedback. How are you supposed to know if you’re improving as a writer if no one tells how you’re doing?

The teachers who used to score my essays always put in feedback when they handed my written scripts back to me. One time, my US Constitution class teacher told me personally that the essay that I wrote for an assignment, was one of the best he had read.

Do you know what that type of feedback does to you? It lights a fire underneath your ass and makes feel like you can shoot for the moon.

But now, I feel like everything I write should be put in a dumpster. I write ideas for new stuff and feel like I’ll never to finish them. Here’s a couple of stuff I write in my OneNote app:


I have so many writing projects unfinished. I already created the cover art for a novel which I don’t think I’m ever going to finish. I want to write a new memoir and release it next year on my birthday in January. But at this point, I have no inspiration or motivation to keep working on the drafts.

I also have a couple of short stories written which I don’t think will ever be finished.

Guys, I think I’m done. I don’t think I have it anymore. I feel like I lost the magic. Maybe I just need a break and escape somewhere to recharge.

For now, I think I’ll just focus on my Tech site ( and work on my UX stuff I started writing on Medium.

I also need to get back on my reading game. Books are piling up in my Kindle library. I need to finish this Stephen King “Dark Tower” book before the movie comes out (I’m on the 7th and last book).

I guess I’m “retiring” from creative writing. That sounds kind of absurd. But I am stepping back and taking a hiatus. I think its for the better.

Maybe one day I’ll “un-retire” and put out some news stuff. Until then, thanks for reading.

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