Fire and ice indeed. You’ve no idea the hope this gives me, knowing that even writers older than me still suffer these doubts; as with all seasons, this too shall pass.
‘No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.’
-Aristotle
I often have days where I contemplate giving up. They’re the kind of days where I sit down at my computer to write and think to myself why the hell am I doing this? I’m twenty six years of age and I’ve never had a career, I’ve never finished any of the multiple university degrees that I’ve started, and despite having served more than a decade in the workforce I don’t really have anything of substance to my name. I really struggle when those moments arrive. I sit at my computer for hours and stare blankly at a screen clouded by my own insecurities and self-doubt wondering why I don’t just give up and become happy like everyone else. I want to be a writer; I am a goddamn writer. But in those moments I question whether I have what…
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From the City on a Hill 