I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: I am an attention whore. As such, it is hard for me to quit something that might garner me praise. It’s shallow, I know, but it works for me.
That doesn’t mean there aren’t times when I absolutely want to quit writing. I definitely have those moments of desperate frustration when, more than anything else, what I’m actually doing is running away from writing. I have a classic love/hate relationship with the creative process.
The meditative high you get when you’re on a roll and the words are flowing is an addictive feeling. At the same time, the dread of a deadline when you don’t feel like you have anything worth saying is equally devastating. And those times when you lie in bed feeling guilty about the words you didn’t produce that day are just agony.
I freaking hate the way writing, or perhaps I should say the way not writing, makes me feel. At the same time, I crave that attention you get when you actually manage to do a good job. If even one person comments that they enjoyed something I wrote, I’m on cloud nine for the rest of the day.
Feed the monkey, people, and he will dance.