5 Reasons Why Writing is Making You Miserable

When you think of a writer, what image comes to mind? An old dude in pantaloons scowling at his manuscript, head in hand. A woman gazing mournfully out of a rain-spattered window. Whatever it is, I bet they ain’t smiling!

The figure of the “troubled writer” haunts popular culture. A down and out Bradley Cooper in Limitless. David Duchovny in Californication. Hell, even John Cusack was one in 2012 for some reason. They’re literally everywhere!

It’s as though we expect our writers to be depressed AF. To be taken seriously around here you need to be either broke, divorced, traumatised, addicted, suicidal, or all of the above. Otherwise, how else might one ever accurately communicate the tribulations of the human spirit!

Sorry, but I call bullshit.

I don’t know when as a society we decided writers have to be, for want of a better term, “fucked up” (let’s be realistic, it was most likely caused by struggling writers writing stories about struggling writers) but I want to be part of a movement reversing that trend. The main reason being, personally, if it’s a choice between writing and being a functional human being, I’m going to choose the latter, and I’d rather not have to give up one of the few things I think I’m good at.

So here are five reasons why writing might be making you miserable. Each one with suggestions on how said misery might be allayed. Let’s go!

1. Writing has become a substitute for real life

In my last blog post, When Journaling Fails, Write Stories Instead, I explored how writing and analysing the characters in our own stories can be a means of arriving at a deeper sense of self. A way of really getting to grips with certain inner conflicts and our inner values.

The characters we write reflect our inner narratives and values and the dramas they face along the road reflect those internal struggles we face when trying to align ourselves to what’s important to us.

For example, say you’re writing a classic good versus evil fantasy, à la Lord of the Rings. Deep down you may value traits like courage, friendship and adventurousness.

Now when I say that “writing has become a substitute for real life”, what I mean is that your characters have taken on the responsibility of living out the values that are important to you. It’s all well and good for us to write heroic narratives, but if we do not attempt to live by the morals championed in our own tales, we may become lost, depressed, consumed by despair.

I don’t mean you need to go out there and start swinging swords. But in the case of our hypothetical fantasy author, maybe they need to pluck up the courage to arrange a night out with their friends down the Green Dragon, or go hiking up a mountain (preferably not one lorded over by an evil, all-seeing eye).

2. You have unreasonable goals

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” My colleague drops this phrase every Monday on our weekly wellbeing walk as I attempt to express to her, in great detail, the extent of my chronic FOMO and general sense of emotional malaise. And while I don’t like having my very interesting problems reduced down to six words, Caroline’s bloody right. Comparison is the thief of joy.

I think every writer knows intimately that overwhelming dread that occurs whenever you see a contemporary getting ahead. Or when you discover some famous author one hundred years ago had published twenty-seven books before their thirtieth birthday. It can make us feel like it will never happen for us. That we’re too late to even begin.

Such unreasonable comparison will eat away at our motivation. We cannot compare ourselves to such outliers. It’s all well and good for Stephen King to have published over sixty novels, but he is (no offence Stephen) a freak of nature.

The sad truth is, success is not a guarantee in any walk of life. But weirdly, that fact is also liberating. If success is not guaranteed, then we might as well spend our time doing the things we love. There is no point trying to be a doctor, an MMA fighter, or even a writer for that matter, just so that we can impress people at cocktail parties. As we may never even get the chance to impress said people. We might as well only pursue such goals if we genuinely love healing sick people or being kneed in the face.

3. You need a chewing gum and a walk round the garden

I have a weird relationship with food. Growing up, occasionally I would eat so much that it would hurt. To which my mom would say, “You need a chewing gum and a walk round the garden.”

As I waddled up the garden path desperately trying to metabolise a gigantic shit into existence, I had plenty of time to reflect on my fucked up relationship with food.

The thing about food is that it is great at quelling our anxiety and distracting us from uncomfortable things. The thing about writing is, at least for me, it triggers my anxiety and is uncomfortable.

The act of sitting still and trying to think of things to say and then saying them in an alright way (just like this sentence - sigh) is pretty difficult. Before we know it, sometimes an entire sleeve of Maryland cookies has sneaked past our mouth defences.

I remember hearing that Mark Manson wrote The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck lying in bed eating Reese’s Pieces. I can so relate. Just in the space of writing this blog post my snack list reads like The Very Hungry Caterpillar on a Saturday.

So my suggestion, short of implementing healthy eating habits with the help of a trained therapist and dietician, is to occasionally have a chewing gum and a walk round the garden. You’ll be alright.

4. You haven’t found your voice

When people talk of “voice” in regards to writing, I find they tend to focus on stylistic choices. A fan of simple, direct language strung together with “ands” and “buts”? That’s so Hemingway! Do your characters incorporate made up slang words into their dialogue? That’s just like A Clockwork Orange!

But to me these stylistic choices are superficial. When you begin with what you want to say and why you want to say it, the best ways in which to say it will follow naturally.

If you find writing is making you miserable, maybe you’re not saying what you want to say and are instead writing what you think other people want to read. Now I’m not saying to completely disregard your reader. You need to present your message in the best possible way. But you need to write what is in your heart. Apologies if you just threw up in your mouth, but it’s true!

Sometimes though it is hard to know what is in our hearts. Their messages can be concealed to us, repressed, misunderstood. If you are concerned you haven’t found your voice and are copying other writers, think about what the writers you admire are saying. What worldviews do they embody? It may be that you share similar sentiments. That can be a good place to start.

Ultimately, however, we need to find our own personal truth. Which entails a great deal of self-exploration. It also requires a letting go of the need for validation from other people. Readers will like it when you produce works that remind them of other, more famous books. They will find your work familiar and comforting. But writing your own truth means being willing not to people please, to risk being yourself, potentially even joining the ranks of writers not appreciated in their own time. You’ll be in good company at least! I would say this gamble is at the heart of what it means to create any true art.

And a magical thing happens when we find our voice: writing becomes a much more enjoyable experience. When liberated from the (often imagined) expectations of others, newly accepting of our own writer journey, there is no longer the additional exhaustion of putting on an act. Only the good, clean mental exhaustion that is part and parcel of writing.

5. You’re lonely

There’s no escaping it. Writing is a lonely activity. That’s not necessarily a bad thing! Time spent on our own, conversing with our thoughts and pushing the bounds of our imagination, can be a fun and rejuvenating activity. But words on a page are no substitute for real human connection.

I find that when I go through a lonely patch, it’s easy to slip into a hazy funk where social activities start to seem more and more ludicrously impossible. A funk I’ll be snapped out of one day by the simple act of speaking to someone. Like drinking a glass of water and the burst of hydration curing you of a protracted headache you were not quite aware that you had until it was gone.

For this reason, I think it’s important for writers to build up proactive ways to address this thirst for human contact before we become dehydrated so to speak.

When I was studying Creative Writing at university, the structure of the course meant you were constantly talking with other writers. This was exhilarating because you felt like you were part of a movement, as though it could be the start of a film dramatising your career as an author. However, after the course, that regular contact dwindled, as it now required personal effort to maintain these relationships, whereas before we relied on the organisational prowess of passionate lecturers.

Getting that feeling back, of belonging so assuredly in a certain place and time, has not been something I’ve been able to crack in regards to my writing practice. But there have been small victories. And sometimes those small victories are enough, especially when you have a lot of other, non-writing commitments.

One thing I’ve got coming up that I’m looking forward to is a parent & carers network event being held where I work which allows us to meet other writers with caring responsibilities and do some actual writing uninterrupted for a couple of hours. Just the act of signing up to this event gave me a little spring in my step, helped me feel less alone.

I think it’s just a case of us keeping our eyes open for any opportunity that may come along… and having the guts to go for it when it does.

To recap

We’ve covered a lot here today, so if you’ve made it this far, thanks so much for reading! To recap, when writing is making us miserable, we might try the following:

1. Living by the positive values our characters and stories embody.

2. Shifting our ideas of success away from material accomplishment towards a love of doing.

3. Incorporating healthy habits around eating and spending time outdoors.

4. Finding our voice (i.e. write what we want to write).

5. Seeking out fellow writers in real life.

So those are my suggestions. What are yours? Let me know in the comments!

And if you feel like you've fully lost your passion for writing, I'd recommend checking out this blog post: Lost Your Writing Mojo? Here's Where to Find It!

Rick x