Confession: I hate writing now

I don’t know what happened, but now I hate writing. What? But, girl, you’re like writing right now? Ok, let me clarify, I now hate journalistic writing and anything near it.  I love writing here in my blog. I can write here all day, and I’d love to do more non-journalistic writing, but I need to work and earn money. Thankfully, I don’t work as a lifestyle journalist anymore, but I do need to accept writing gigs every now and then because my teaching job, which I enjoy, is just part-time.

Sometimes I get excited about certain writing gigs, and I’m starting to pitch story ideas again (because I want to), but, for the most part, I do it because I need money. I mean, I still do my job by passing quality articles, but I must admit that the fire is gone. Friends are saying maybe I just need a break from it (I’m thinking like I need a year, but obviously it’s not happening because I’m still accepting gigs), and then maybe my passion for it will come back. Maybe or maybe not.

There are bad signs though. When I get approached for certain gigs, I price high, hoping that they will back out, and when they do, I feel relieved. When there was one newspaper that suddenly, and without explanation, stopped publishing my articles (even the ones I already submitted, which they actually approved, which the staff writer told me were quality articles, but she said she just can’t explain why the editor doesn’t want to publish them anymore), I wasn’t that hurt about losing the opportunity. I just want to find other publishers for my unpublished articles. I feel sorry for my interviewees who are expecting to see the articles (One got published already. Yey! Two more to go). I mean, I’m confused because I don’t know the reason why they decided against me, and I do feel slighted by the newspaper, but mostly, I don’t care that much. I would have cried if I still liked writing, but since I lost my appetite for it, I’m just glad I don’t have that responsibility anymore.

Sometimes I want to watch theater, but I don’t have money for the ticket. A solution is to pitch the story and write about it so that I get a free ticket. But every time I experience this, I’ve decide against it because I’d rather miss a show than write an article. Wow, that sounds really bad.

I’ve also said no to a lot of gigs because I’m “busy”, which is sometimes true. It’s weird though that I’m getting approached more often right when I don’t want such opportunities. When I get these opportunities, I feel grateful and I say thank you. I get excited to write, but when I am facing my computer, I regret taking the assignment. I also feel very touched when there are artists who text me, concerned, asking why am I not writing anymore. I say I’m teaching, which is true.

When another editor, who I like, was at an event that I was, I pretended that I didn’t see him and proceeded to talk to another person. He was really far from me so it was possible that he didn’t see me. Still, I could have approached him, but I didn’t. I didn’t because, not that he was assigning me articles anymore, but if I said hi and he remembered that I still existed, I was afraid that he might give me a gig. Wow, that sounds bad also.

But when there was a person who asked me if I finally quit writing, (she reads my blog and has read about me talking about losing my passion for it), I felt angry and I was like “NO! I HAVEN’T QUIT WRITING!” Am I psycho?

Writing lifestyle articles used to be meaningful. After college, I stopped writing fiction because I felt that I was merely showing off, but, really, I had no story to tell. When I got the job as a lifestyle journalist, I felt like I was finally doing something worthwhile. I was telling real stories about artists and other creatives who didn’t know how to package their life experiences into compelling narratives, but I did. After years of doing that, I became bored.

It’s so sad that writing, my passion, became something that I do solely for the money. I don’t mean that writers shouldn’t get paid, but I wish I was getting paid and at the same time enjoying the task of writing, but I don’t anymore. What I really want to do is write about myself and my life. Vain. Plus, there’s no money in that. Or is there? I wish I could figure out how to make this blog income generating. Or maybe a non-writing income-generating sideline to supplement the teaching job?

This sucks because I was already getting recognized for my art articles. I even invested so much time and effort to build my “brand” as an art writer, but oh well. I don’t know why I am writing this. I am scared that I will lose gigs because of this confession (that’s why this entry is peppered with caveats like “sometimes I get excited about certain gigs” meaning maybe my gig with you is not the one that bores me, and “maybe I just need a break” meaning this is just a phase so I will get over it, and “I still pass quality articles” meaning don’t worry about this confession because you’ll still get good articles, or my being “busy” is “sometimes true” meaning I did not reject you that time because I was “fake busy”), but I just need to get this off my chest. I don’t know where I am going, but I know that I am looking for something. What is it? I don’t know. All I know is I am looking for something.

More Writing Exercises:

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Note: For some entries in this blog, a few names and details have been deliberately and willingly changed by the author. This is a personal decision made by the author for specific reasons known to her and is not an endorsement for censorship.

All the opinions expressed in this page and in this blog are my own and do not represent the official stances of the companies, institutions, and organizations that I am affiliated with. I am a person. I’m not just a manifestation of corporate interests. I have an identity that is separate from my company because even if human beings are paid for a service by corporations, human beings are not owned by corporations.

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