Let’s get real: there’s not much joy in the act of writing. Sure, there might be a fleeting sense of satisfaction in having completed a piece, but that’s all in the rearview mirror, much like the nostalgia you feel for a stellar high school sports moment—one that came at the cost of grueling practices. Or think about finishing law school: you might feel proud of that diploma, but the journey? Not so much.
Happiness? Whoever claimed that writing brings joy has clearly never spent hours fixated on a blank screen. The pressure mounts as you worry that the words you type will not only fail to impress your editor but also lead to a paycheck that doesn’t quite cover your bills. You might find yourself wondering if you’ll dip into your savings to keep the lights on, all while trying to refill that creative well that some writing guru insisted you tap into.
Let’s not forget the gut-wrenching moment when you realize you’ve churned out countless words only to discover they’re not what you need. Back to square one! All that time spent feels like a cruel joke as you mentally tally up all the outings with friends and binge-worthy shows you missed. And guess what? You’ll be right back at the keyboard again.
I’d wager that the person who wrote that was always destined to be a writer, never considering any other path. They’ve never found themselves staring out a window, dodging calls from an editor, and wishing they’d chosen a more stable career—like being a firefighter or a cop—where they’d be enjoying retirement on a sunny beach, free to write whatever they wished without the weight of expectations.
Ever hear of someone who tried to write their way to happiness? Take Edgar Allan Poe, for instance. He was found in a delirious state on the streets of Baltimore and passed away at just 40. Jane Austen? She had zero fame during her lifetime and died at 41, with her epitaph neglecting her literary contributions. Then there’s Ernest Hemingway, who drowned himself in alcohol for decades before ending his life—alone and filled with despair. Mark Twain? He battled with deep depression for 15 years before passing in 1910.
You could likely choose any other career and find yourself in a happier place. I know a lot of writers who grapple with misery; I can’t say the same for drywallers or sheetrock specialists—at least not because of their jobs. And don’t even get me started on the life of an editor!
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In summary, writing can often feel like a long, painful slog rather than a path to joy. While there may be a sense of accomplishment in having written, the journey itself is fraught with anxiety, frustration, and often, a hefty dose of disappointment.