about writing

raw ranting thoughts as promised

i’m sitting on my comfy bed, thinking about writing. what to write. how to write it. the more i think about it, the harder it is for words to come out.

since when has writing become a chore? writing used to be my escape. it used to be a nook where i could run to, hide from my daily responsibilities, put aside my studying, and where i could truly be free. free to be creative.

yet now, the more i write, the more i fix my writing, the less my writing sounds like…me. paragraphs don’t flow anymore. sentences don’t form into a concrete thought anymore. words are spread apart like puzzle pieces, from someone carrying 3 boxes of them then trips and pieces skid everywhere.

i’ve been dying to finish my book - The Book Eaters - for the past 30 minutes. yet i’m trying to hit my milestone of writing an article per week. since when has writing become a thing to check off on my list? another thing put on my plate? another task i gotta finish before telling myself that i can finally sleep?

writing without soul irks me so much. this book i’m reading, i love the creative world building, but all characters talk the same way. maybe all of them are supposed to be british, but repeating the same phrasing? it gets boring fast. it feels lazy, and characters get monotone (this is not an official book review but i’d give this book a solid 7.8; haven’t finished it yet though).

i don’t want my writing to be so. i don’t want to read it and be like “what the heck did i write just now?”. but i also don’t want to judge my writing so much that it creates pressure that drives me away from a hobby i’m just starting to love. i don’t want to depend on whether my audience will appreciate my writing. that can’t be my sole reason to write. it’s a cage that i’m putting myself into.

in the next few months, there will be a big fish on my plate called the NAVLE¹, which i already have an intense schedule to study for. i don’t want writing to be another fish on the plate. i can’t take all of them, along with working 8+ hours a day. i’d rather let writing be the occasional dessert, the tiramisu of my meals, that i can eat whenever i want to. tastes much better when there’s the freedom to choose.

anyway, i have no more words so i’m putting my pen down (and shutting my laptop). i’m gonna let myself finish this book now. goodnight substack!

love,

sue

irrelevant photo for clout LOL. this was in Vietnam <3

1. aka Nightmarish Agonizing Veterinary Licensing Exam