I never intended on becoming a writer.

I was convinced that writing wasn’t going to bring me the life of my dreams at least that’s what my parents told me when I was 8. My parents told me my dream was to get a stable job with benefits but my real dream was to be a working artist living in a cottage in the woods and creating art all day while drinking lemon tea with my pet owl Merlin beside me.

But that wasn’t realistic in my household.

The day I declared to my father that I wanted to be an artist was the day he told me that it could never happen because art and writing are hobbies, not careers. My parents, who willingly left their home country and traveled to America for a better future, thought that having a college degree and a steady job was the American Dream (oh those poor things).

And like an obedient daughter, I went to college and graduated with an English degree because I didn’t know what else to major in.

I worked for a few offices and administration jobs and would write when I came home from work. After a while of working behind a desk, I found myself updating websites, and writing articles and blog posts for the companies I worked for. In fact, it slowly became part of my job description.

It was then that I realized regardless of what my parents had said, the writer’s life was always there. It was waiting for me to step back into the ring and I just happen to fall in…and it felt great. That’s when I decided to be bold and become a professional writer (whatever that means).

I began freelancing for magazines, guest-posted on a few websites, and ghostwrote pieces for major businesses. And while things seemed to be going great, I noticed my work wasn’t going in the direction I wanted it to go. I began to wonder why and after careful research, I finally realized…

My work kind of sucks.

Sure I may have a few published pieces here and there but there’s no way I’m anywhere near the greats. By the greats I mean fantastic life-altering writers like Poe, King, and Gaiman. Nowhere near Margaret Attwood or Joan Didion. And not even close to Marisa Meltzer, Jessica Grose, or Rosa Sanchez.

When I finally learned this, I became obsessed with fixing it.

I started reading and researching articles and books and examined them word for word. I’ve read tips on eye-popping titles, SEO keywords, and line spacing for those who don’t like reading text jumbled together in a paragraph (which is what it’s always been but times are changing).

I also realized how much writers depend on marketing their own work and that if you are not willing to socialize then you might as well call it quits. Which for an introvert might feel like being asked to stand on stage naked and wave to everyone.

I receive rejection letters, silent email pitch responses, and countless blogs that go unlooked. For someone who finds themselves at the crossroads of life, there can only be one choice: continue to suffer with limited reward and uncertainty, or just bury the hatchet and move on.

So why do I continue? Why do I keep writing even though I suck?

I write because out of everything that I’ve experienced in life, writing has always been my saving grace. It’s been my nonjudgmental friend, my first therapist, and my safe haven. The feeling of putting pen to paper is freedom for me, which is why I know I’m not going to stop. I write because my soul needs it.

I write because it’s who I am.

And the best part about it is the more I write, the more my writing will improve and transform into something better.

The more sucky articles I write, the more my craft will grow. The more vulnerable I am knowing that people might not ever read a word I write, the more I can write without fear or judgment. And that is freedom.

So, if you find yourself looking at your passion, your art, the one thing that brings you joy, and thinking to yourself “Dude I suck”? That’s a good sign.

It means you actually care about your craft and you’re sacrificing your time for the right reasons. Because your soul requires you to do it. Although we are passionate human beings that love hard, anything worth loving takes work (on so many levels).

Keep going and you will get there. At least I hope — we’ll have to wait and see.

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Til next time love,

Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash