I Don’t Want To Write

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I don’t have writer’s block.

I just don’t want to write.

It’s not that can’t think of anything to write. I have been making lists for a couple of weeks now of things I can write about. I just don’t want to tackle any of them today.

I haven’t lost any ambition or vision. A life in writing is still what I want.

I’m just like most writers: I kind of don’t like writing.

I have always wanted to be different, however. I have always wanted to be the writer that could honestly say:

“I really enjoy writing. I enjoy the act. I enjoy the entire process.”

That is what I have wanted my entire writing life, to get the place where I enjoy writing, where it’s fun, relaxing, and nurturing. But, most of the time the part of writing I enjoy most is writing the last words of a manuscript, and letting it go.

Why do I ahve ot drag myself to thte keyboard? Why do I dread coming home to it at night?

Is it because it’s difficult? Because other writers are measurably better? Because I don’t think I can ever be as great as Hemingway? Because I have to work so hard and reach so deeply to write things which don’t mean much when they are outside my head?

Would I be happier doing something else?

Would I be even more unhappy if I stopped writing?

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