I have been struggling to find the reason why I have this feeling of not really wanting to write.

I love storytelling. Every bit of it. Yet, recently I haven’t felt that pull to actually tell stories, but I figured it out. The realistic part of my brain knew that breaking into the industry was going to be hard. Especially without a big publishing house backing me, but the dreamer part of my brain had other thoughts. I dreamed of releasing my first book and it becoming a big success that I would feel the pressure of having to hurry and release the next. Then I would finally be able to do what I love and live solely off of my art.

Things do not happen like that. I know that. The realistic part of me knows this. But I instead listened to the dreamer side. I had big aspirations and I worked tirelessly on my first book. I used every bit of free time I had to write. Which was a lot because I had just been laid off from my job. I promoted all over Facebook and Instagram.

Then release day came. While I did sell copies it was nothing impressive. It was nothing that would make me want to quit my non-existent job at the time. Even after eight years that book only has twelve reviews on Amazon. All good reviews but such a low amount.

Every time I look at those numbers I become more depressed. I start to wonder ‘what’s the point?’

I love writing. I love telling these stories, but I feel like I haven’t made an impression and I’m not encouraged.

Now I just have to figure out how to get that spark back without stressing so much about whether or not people like what I’m writing.