I haven’t written in months. Okay, that’s a lie. I have written, but not for myself the way I used to. Lately, all my writing has been at the request of paying clients eager to fork out the cash and claim the credit. I shouldn’t sound so bitter about it. I mean, I did make the conscious to choice to sell my work. To be honest, I was really happy about it. At first, I was just excited that someone would actually pay me money to write something for them. Then, after a while it started to feel like a chore. Sometimes, I would get an order that I didn’t exactly feel passionate about, but I would do it anyway because that was my job; at least, that’s how it felt.
I had a lot of concerned family members and friends asking me about how it all worked.
“So you don’t get any credit for what you write?” They would ask me in skeptical tones. Well when you put it like that…
I would always insist that it was all part of the process in making a name for myself. Maybe I wouldn’t be recognized from the outside right away, but behind the scenes, I was developing contacts and learning quite a bit. You have to start somewhere.
I think the point where I really started to burn out on it was when I realized that I had gained all the knowledge I needed to go out and make it on my own. I was educated in the process of getting published and all I really needed to do next was, well, do it. That is as soon as I stopped holding myself back from fear and hiding behind my “freelancing.”
I had gotten comfortable in the little writing rut I had fallen into however, and slowly but surely, I felt completely dry of inspiration. For the first time ever, it was becoming a chore to write. That’s when I knew that something needed to change.
I decided it was time to take a break from the freelancing and go back to my old roots of blogging and adding to my never ending novel. The truth is, it was only a couple months into the freelancing that my blog entries decreased dramatically and I rarely even talked about the direction my story was taking. I blamed it on a lack of time, but there is no denying that I was dry of inspiration.
I have turned a new page and am starting upon a new chapter in my writing adventure. It’s not a job, it’s not a chore and it sure as hell isn’t a requirement. It is a passion, and I’ll be damned if I ever turn it into a job again. Ideas are flowing and inspiration is bursting at the seams. It’s time I go back to who I am and embrace my writing for what it is, my purpose. I’m back to basics. Back to black.