How do you write when you’re broken? That’s the question I have been pondering lately. It seems that every time I start to climb up something knocks me back down. I’ve been down so much lately that I’m starting to get a crick in my neck from trying to look up.
I don’t share a lot of personal information because … well, I just don’t. Without getting into specific detail I will say that more plans have fallen through. Plans that I really needed to work, not just to further my career, but to survive. My family has suffered, my writing has suffered … I have suffered.
I have just lost my day job for the third time. Budget cuts and the economy is killing me, almost literally. Think you’ve got it bad? (I’m sure you do. I realize I’m not alone here. I’m just trying to make others realize that neither are they.) My trash can got repossessed this past year. That’s right. My freaking trash can. Now that’s broke.
Of course, there’s much more than that going on. Lots of bad things, unfortunately. I’m considering selling the knives in my back for extra cash. LOL But, in all seriousness, my writing has suffered. I’ve finished editing one book, written another that needs another go over and am working on yet another.
I’m trying to find the motivation to write about love when all I feel is hate and pain. Passion is passion I keep telling myself. Turn it into what you need it to be. It’s not just that I’m broke … I’m broken. I have reached my limit. How do you write out of that? How do you take all of that pain and make it something more? I’ve done it before. So why is this time any different? I guess because I’m getting older and I’m sick to death of having to start over again. I’m sick of not being able to trust anyone of not being able to make any plans or count on anything at all.
I’m sick and I’m tired. Period. And even though I want to quit … quitting is not in me. It is not. As long as I can move I will not break completely. I have been broken before. I have the scars to prove it. Dare I ask: What next? I’m still standing. I’m still writing. If it takes a bottle of wine and lots of Barry White I will write that damn love scene. Somehow I will find a way to take this passion and make something good of it. Otherwise I will explode.
I’m writing this to let other people who are hurting know that you are not alone. I know I’m not the only one the economy has affected badly. All I’ve got to do is watch the news to understand that. Some people think that being a writer is glamorous. Well, it isn’t. I love it, but I still need another source of income to pay my bills. Not to mention advertising. People can’t buy what they don’t know about. Guess who hasn’t been able to afford an ad in almost a year? That would be me.
Trying to find the time to look for a job/keep one plus promote myself and look after a family is taking its toll. But as long as I have wax the candle will continue to burn on both ends. There is no other way.
I am a writer. I do it because I must. Storytelling is my first love. I will write until I collapse. I am a woman and I am strong. For those who have helped to knock me down, I will not stay this way.
If I ever cease to get up check my pulse.