Writing is Bad for My Mental Health
I realized something the other day. Honestly, it’s a wonder it has taken me this long to come to this conclusion, but the nature of our society is to encourage us to chase things… even when doing so isn’t healthy.
I’ve been writing for a long time. I mean, pick a benchmark: I started writing my first stories when I was around seven years old, then became a respected fanfic writer in the days of zines when I was a teen, then had my first original works published in 2004, began self-publishing in 2012, won a screenwriting award in 2013, had some books published by small houses in 2016… Right through to last year, when I re-released a couple of older titles. I’m proud of all that I’ve done, but I’ve also come to realize that it’s actually getting harder to be a writer.
It’s easier than ever to publish something, and that’s actually what makes it so difficult to get anywhere as an author. There is actually too much content. I’ve known this for a while, but there’s always the belief (hope) that quality work will somehow be discovered. In truth, though, that’s not how this works. Being successful as an author these days isn’t about being a good writer or telling a good story. I mean, you should still have those things—they should be the priority—but more than ever it’s a marketing game. It’s about being loud and showy, grabbing eyeballs and therefore readers, and that’s just not something I’m capable of.
Think about the ways you find things to read. Maybe someone (a friend or a critic) recommends a book, so you go looking for it. Maybe you browse a bookstore or library. Or maybe you see enough ads, tweets, whatever to get you to finally click and look.
As someone whose books are not well known, I don’t have a lot of word of mouth. And though my books are available via Ingram, I don’t think they’re widely stocked in libraries or bookstores. Because… no one is asking for them. And I can’t seem to figure out how to market myself in a way that gets clicks, page reads, sales.
But the realization I came to goes a bit deeper. What I’ve realized is that the accumulation of rejections, the lack of sales and, generally, affirmation and support, has led me to a very bad place mentally and emotionally. In a world where we’re conditioned to pursue Likes and views and subscribers… to never get them is like Valentine’s Day at school, but you’re living it every day. The popular kids are walking around with flowers and balloons and giant teddy bears, and the rest of us would be happy with just about anything that proved someone cares.
What I need, I’ve decided, is to find something that satisfies me in and of itself. Something I do not for show or sale. That used to be writing. Once upon a time, I enjoyed it for its own sake. I don’t know if that will ever be true again, but in the meantime, I’m off to find some other hobby or pastime that doesn’t rely on mass approval. Something unquantified, where I’m not worried about numbers (or lack thereof). Something that doesn’t chip away relentlessly at my self-esteem and make me want to weep.