The older you get, the less passionate you are with your writing -- and the less funny you become. The humor turns into sarcasm. Then sarcasm to spite. Then spite to pure hatred of the world.
I met with a friend Saturday and we talked about the fact the we both stopped reading books as voraciously as we did, and how we have started acting as if writing has become a grand chore.
Back then, I could finish one or two books in one day. Now, I simply read one chapter and fall asleep. Back then, I would fill pages upon pages of things creative and illogical. Now, I get content with one hard-hitting line -- and then I fall sleep.
Talking to writers who are just starting out amazes me. I listen to their tear-jerking, mind-blowing ramblings about how inspiration just came one day and consumed them and a voice inside my head immediately says, "bah, you won't be saying that when you start doing it regularly and getting paid for it."
Reality bites. And after it's done, it will come back to bite you again.
I'm not trying to dampen spirits here. It's just that after years of doing the same thing over and over, you naturally start to get tired of it. Familiarity breeds contempt. I have been writing for quite a number of years already and have handled all sorts of subjects (even things you've probably never heard of and never thought I would do), so I should not feel burned-out right? After all, there is diversity in what I do.
Right?
Not really.
Fact number one. You will never be able to forever enjoy writing only about the things you are interested in. Somewhere, someday you will be compelled to do something that is completely out your league and interest, because people think that because you're a professional writer you can write anything. And you will be forced to say "yes" because saying otherwise would make you unprofessional.
Fact number two. It doesn't pay much and it doesn't pay on time. So you will need to claw through a horde of people like you to get more assignments, only to find out that payment comes a month or two or three after publication.
Fact number three. Contrary to popular belief, writers do not hang out at Starbucks everyday. We don't have that much money. We'd rather stay at home at hunch over what space is left on our desks (if we have one, otherwise we write in bed with a huge hardcover book as our makeshift table). If we get paid more than twice a month, we might be able to afford a coffeemaker, which, by the way, does not really see much quality ground coffee all the time.
Sad, but true.
But no matter how many times I am hurled into these situations and complain to the high heavens about it, I never really make the effort to get out. Because I don't want to. While familiarity does breed contempt, it is that same contempt that injects the adrenaline into your veins, along with the nagging thought that one day you can beat the burn-out monster.
And since writing is a solitary activity, that burn-out monster is nobody else but yourself.
That's why most of us are schizophrenic.
Sad, but true.
