For some time now, I have been feeling like writing fiction is a chore instead of my escape. I used to be able to just sit for hours and enjoy writing. I used to look forward to writing fictional stories.
Have I gotten lazy?
Somewhere between finishing my Master’s in Creative Writing and trying to get published, I lost the bliss. I lost the desire to write fiction. Sure, I’ve had a lot going on the past few years and months (moving to a different state, getting married, grad school, new baby etc), but I don’t think it has anything to do with it. See, there was a time when I would write without the worry of getting published in the back of my mind or meeting a certain deadline for my agent. I would write simply because I wanted to and not because I had to. Writing fiction has turned into a pity chore in the past few years, and I do not enjoy it as much because of those reasons.
You would think that once I found my literary agent, my writing life would be “the dream life,” but instead I find myself losing interest in writing fiction more and more each day.
Maybe it is a phase that I’m going through.
Just the thought of editing or writing my novel makes me yawn or roll my eyes.
I enjoy writing on my blog, journaling, or simply jotting down my thoughts, but fiction writing … I’m dreading it these days.