I Want To Be An Author

But I can never convince myself to get started.

It could be the crushing weight of anhedonia I have to slog through every day. I can handle it; but most of the time, I just want to close my eyes and not be bothered.

It could be the irrational distaste for making my thoughts tangible for others — maybe I’m concerned people won’t understand what I’m trying to say, or maybe I just don’t want to share.

It could be that I’ve been that lazy, ungrateful “millennial” stereotype all along and didn’t realize it until I sat down to compose my magnum opus.

Whatever it is, I’ve yet to name it enough to find a solution. And that’s seriously cramping my style, because it is keeping me from using my copious empty time to do what I’ve wanted to since I was 10 years old: become the next great YA fantasy author.

Maybe I’ve had too many years of reasonable reasons not to get started. It’s been undeniably difficult to work a laborious job for at eight to ten hours a day, then come home and…