I really want to be a writer.
More specifically a novelist.
When I think about what I want to do with my life I think about how I really want to be an author, with enough success that it could be my sole job. But that thought brings with it a multitude of other thoughts, less pleasant thoughts, like how? Not every author is successful, and even then there are different levels of success. Even if I leap the hurdles in front of getting published I still have to figure out how I support that how, what I do as backup.
But I don’t want a backup. I don’t know what I want to do if writing can’t be it. I start thinking that maybe my dream is unrealistic and that I should focus on real life before I indulge my fantasies. And isn’t that a depressing thought.
I will finish the novel I’m writing, in a couple of months hopefully, but whose to say if its any good. Then I’d have to look at how I’d publish which brings with it thoughts of editing and other annoying practicalities. I know its not beyond the realm of possibility, that lots of people reach some level of commercial success and I’m not vain enough to be aiming for stardom or a Booker prize. I just want to succeed. I want people to read my book and enjoy it and remember it. And to me that seems worlds away from where I am now.
So then I think maybe I should wait, but then I think if I don’t do it now while I’m young I won’t ever do it. I hardly have the time to write as it is and if I was trying to do the whole thing while holding down a full time job then I most likely would just give up.
I’ve considered vanity publishing but it seems, like the name implies, vain.
It’s all such a stupid thing to stress about, though to be honest stress isn’t the right word. I think its just that this issue has played a role in the changes made in my life recently. I’ve decided to transfer universities starting next year and to be honest I’m considering changing my degree all together and starting fresh. It was the realisation that my dream is to be an author that was the catalyst for deciding to leave Cardiff and reconsider my life. That and the fact my counsellor said I’m becoming depressed but that’s another story.
Its just that I’ve made choices and formed plans and considered options but I still feel so lost.
I don’t know what to do.
But then maybe at 19 I’m not supposed to.