Writing Was My Life’s Passion, and I Hated It
Did I rethink my passion, or redefine it?
If writing was my self-proclaimed passion in life, why did I hate doing it so much?
At least it felt like I hated it. Each time I sat down to write, I spent five minutes staring at my hands. Before you could say “writer’s block,” I was off to something else.
I spent a significant amount of time dreaming up topic ideas. I’d jot them down. Judge them. Rank them. Assign their worthiness with pretty little doodle symbols. Sometimes I would even compose bits and pieces of the work in my mind. Editing in the air. Adding funny little quips and anecdotes.
And yet, the words never hit the page. It’s as if I enjoyed everything about the writing process, except the actual writing. (Can one make a living out of cooking up ideas and jotting down a handful of quotable lines?)
All this evidence led me to believe that writing was not my true passion. Was it possible that I only loved the idea of it? Shouldn’t the words flow out from my fingertips if this was truly what I was supposed to do with my life? All the “real” writers say they can’t imagine going one day without writing. That writing doesn’t seem like work at all because they’re following their passion.
