“I’m a writer and I have low self-esteem.”

“I’m a writer and I have low self-esteem.” That’s what I said on Penn & Teller’s Showtime show Bullshit. It was part true, part Hollywood. But I think anyone would agree that writing for a living can break your heart at times, into itty-bitty tiny shattered pieces. And that’s just on a good day.

On a bad day, getting rejected or getting no response, can feel worse than working at a job you hate, for a boss you dislike, in a cubicle that feels suffocating. It can feel like hell-a place where there’s no mercy.

Why?

Because as full-time work at home writers there’s lots to sacrifice.

• You don’t get insurance.
• No paid holidays/vacation.
• No co-workers to rant to.
• Little pay/no pay/paid late.
• No set schedule (which is a good and bad thing. Good-you have a flexible life. Bad-you’re working all the time.).
• You rarely get feedback. (Am I doing good? Or does my writing suck?)
• When you do get them, it’s usually not good. And you’ll often question why you’re doing this or if you’re good enough.
• You’re a writer so you’re probably sensitive and emotional and well that doesn’t bode well when you’ve got to suck it up, move on and swallow your pride when negative feedback hits.
• You barely move all day so your butt gets big and you end up gaining weight. Okay I just threw the last one for fun. But it’s true for some of us anyway.

I’m sure there’s tons more. But that’s pretty much the gist of it.

So why do you keep going?

You’re drawn to it. You love it. You can’t imagine doing anything else. There’s something magical about it when it works. You’ve never been passionate about anything else. You’re not good at anything else.

I don’t know. You tell me? Why do you do it?

When the going gets tough, I tell myself this:

I can breathe because if I work hard and put 50% of my blood, sweat and tears at this, I can relax and trust in knowing that the other 50% will take care of itself. I need to let go and have faith that things will work out.

I do it because I have a profound, almost intense passion for inspiring others via the written word. Because I dream in song, am spiritually moved by pictures, and am obsessed with bettering my life and the lives of others.

So yes. I am a writer. And although it’s hard and it can wear on my self-esteem, I am ever more appreciative of the world I live in. I’m more observant. I’m kinder, more compassionate and am eternally evolving and I have my writing to thank for that.

The bottom line is this: AS I grow, my writing grows along with me.

Enough said.