That's not how this works for me
Fighting my Side Hustle Brain and turning off paid subscriptions
“I’m sorry but I need to finish at 8 today” I apologetically said a week and a half ago, picking up my coat and rushing to throw all my sad belongings into the promotional tote bag I was carrying that day.
“See you next week guys!” I added, turning that sentence into the second lie that had come out of my mouth in less than 3 minutes.
I didn’t have to finish at 8 (30 minutes earlier than the usual end of the class) and I certainly won’t see them next week. I was intentionally dropping out from my fiction short story course at the university after just 4 weeks. Quitting like the cute lil bitch who avoids confrontation that I am.
These classes were something I was really looking forward to (writing! and spending time with people on the same wavelength!) but it turned out to be something I wasn’t enjoying. Like most Hen Do’s or the FRIENDS reunion. It ended up being a weekly torture, which combined with the mental state I was in after my grandmother died less than a month ago, made me feel like No way, José. The day after I quit wrote here a very long and angry rant about the course, but I am now very embarrassed to share it because it makes me sound like a complete maniac. So instead, I will resume my angry rant it in a few lines - equally entertaining! Join me in this descent into madness, resumed in a few bullet points easy to digest:
No Sharon, no one wants to read another cheesy story about an innocent death row prisoner who takes the blame to protect her 10-year-old daughter. Also, get your facts about the justice system right because you happen to share a class with a girl who’s seen A LOT of true crime documentaries and can smell the bullshit. You won’t believe the lengths I’ve gone to prove that your short story made no sense, Sharon. (Like speaking with a friend from Kentucky who then spoke with his friend at law school (the closest person to Tennessee I know, OK??)
WHY IS EVERYONE TAKING NOTES ABOUT THE STORIES THE TEACHER READS? This is not a contest of who makes the most interesting/deep remarks, and it’s also not one of those lame workshops called something like “How to publish your book in just 10 weeks”. This middle-aged man next to me, dressed in a sweaty corporate shirt so tight that was fighting for its own life, was filling an entire page with notes about the story we were listening to… Was he even paying any attention? What can you possibly be writing about, man!!?? I can only imagine something like this: “Writer tip: Make observation about the shape and colour of the quirky mug the character is drinking from; this way readers will know you have such an attention to detail.”
My teacher. He was very English and very old. This is cute but also not very helpful if your writing style is plagued with pop culture references, Fleabag-like humour and you are mainly read by women.
Sometimes I would be checking the closest fire exit and having an internal conversation with myself about whether to leave this course or not and if that would mean I was a failure. The teacher was reading how “Simon eats his fish fingers and fries but leaves the peas on a side, forming a green pool. He never liked peas”. I couldn’t care less about if that boring kid never liked peas or not, Mr. Collins, unless I can use those peas to suffocate myself to a coma and be rushed out of this class before 20.30h.
So long story short: I’ve quit.
Am I a failure?
Many questions appeared on my mind on my walk home from the Holyrood campus to Leith: Does this mean I don’t have what it takes to be a writer? Shouldn’t I be loving this course? Why can’t I write about what they are asking me to write about? What’s for dinner? But then I remembered that many of these questions were just trying to distract me from the fact that all of the realisations I was having were just confirmations of things I had always felt about ✨bEiNg A wRiTeR✨ but had just pushed to the back of my mind.
So…more bullet points!!
I don’t like the whole I am a writer thing. I really don’t. I don’t like when I go to a literary event and the author starts reading an excerpt from their new book with the gravitas of someone who is announcing to the world that they’ve found a cure against genital warts. I recently watched American Fiction (Cord Jefferson, 2024) which I loved because it encapsulates many of those feelings too well.
I don’t like this silent (but also very loud) contest on the literary/media/Substack world of who’s read more books and who can write about the most deep/relevant/zeitgeisty thing. It feels like a room full of people singing My name is Regina George, and I am a massive deal. And we all know by now that that movie was completely unnecessary.
For some reason I don’t enjoy talking about books/essays because it makes me feel pretentious, trying to dissect every detail so I can look like I am really intelligent. Ugh. Which is weird because I can spend hours talking about films. Maybe I’ve been focused on the wrong form of entertainment this whole time? I can’t make films so I write? Should I learn how to write scripts? Food for thought.
Lastly, I don’t like the figure of the tortured writer. I just can’t. I’M CLAUSTROPHOBIC, DARREN! That’s all I have to say about it. It has nothing to do with it. Or does it? Thank you.
Writing is something very personal for me, and for this reason, I find myself enjoying fiction less and less. I do love getting lost in a good fiction book now and then, and I will keep trying cos there are some interesting ones out there, but it takes some effort for me to get invested in the story. I miss that from when I was younger. Now that I am in my 30’s, give me personal essays and I’m yours. Give me personal essays that will also make me laugh and I will always be yours. Norah Ephron, Samantha Irby, Dolly Alderton, Raven Smith…that’s what I’m drawn to these days. Because writing for me is fun, even when it hurts. I only do it if I enjoy it. I can be talking about how my father is a bit of a dick and how I just had a mental breakdown on the disabled person’s toilet of my office building but if I manage to make you laugh, I will be making both our lives better.
Hustle culture and the Everything is Content mentality
I’ve been writing online since I was 17, so my brain is wired the following way: I see/think something cool, and then I find ways to turn it into ✨Content✨. And if that content can be profitable, even better! Pretty sure many millennials’ minds are programmed like this thanks to the Hustle culture, and lately, some of us have been reaching boiling point (burning out?) - which explains why more and more 30-somethings are taking a break from social media. I am slowly learning how to unlearn all these stupid habits, but it takes time. It feels like thinking you are always missing out on a good opportunity to capitalise on that thing you love or that you are good at - and I got sick of it.
I’ve been dreading writing the content for my No Buy Year lately. Some people love waking up on the weekends and filming videos about their DIY projects, taking pics of their outfits and whatnot, but that is just not me. I am just a girl who has decided to spend 12 months without spending money on clothes, and by no means do I want to become any spokesperson on sustainability or plan a year of weekly content around this topic. I would, happily, if this was my job. But it isn’t and I have no intention of turning it into my job, so that stresses the shit out of me and takes all the fun out of this, which I hate. And then again comes this Side Hustle Brain telling me that I am missing out on the opportunity of making the best of this experiment. I could create a lot of content from it, both here and on social media. I could get more exposure and all the perks that come with it. I could be a sustainable influencer! I could even write a book about it!
The thing is that I don’t really want to do any of those things if I’m honest with you…
I want to write here whenever I feel like, about the things I want, without deadlines. I will keep writing my monthly recaps about my No Buy Year, (of course!) but I won’t be forcing myself to write about things that I should be writing about, or churning out content on the subject with the hopes of getting more paid subscribers. Putting a price tag on my writing and keeping an eye on analytics is ruining the fun. It’s making me forget why I started writing this newsletter - a little imperfect honest notebook with my thoughts and adventures on modern life, not a publication promising their paid readers to weekly dissect in a masterfully crafted manner every topic they will come across.
Are you turning off paid subscriptions because you don’t value your own writing?
No, I am turning off paid subscriptions because I value my mental peace.
I guess my priorities have changed?????
Do I want to be a writer? I am already a writer, gurl! We have this silly little idea in our brains that you are not a real writer until you can see your book on a window display, and I am just deciding to step off that train because is just making me stressed and unhappy. I love writing here. I’ve been saying for many years that I want to write a book, that I am writing a book, falling into that tortured writer trap I was mentioning earlier - and it just hit me that if I had really REALLY wanted to write a book, I would have made it happen already. Like every time I want to dye my hair a new colour and sprint to Boots to blow the last £20 on my account or in 2020 when LOL! quit my job, my flat, and my 8-year unhappy relationship and moved to Scotland because that’s what I have always dreamed of. I think my endless fantasizing about “writing a book” was only to have proof - give the world proof - that I am a writer. And I don’t need that validation anymore.
As of today, I find myself planning a wedding, repairing the relationship with a father who has the emotional intelligence of a carpet, and helping my only sibling with depression. I have a 9-5 Senior Admin job that challenges me every day and is a bit boring 50% of the time and still, I’ve never been happier in my life, and none of this happiness comes from the usual metrics of success that we have been sold since we were teenagers. (Which to me, is crazy). I couldn’t care less about writing a book or getting paid subscribers for this newsletter, because this newsletter is here to bring me joy and a way to express myself, not to make me feel like I need to be constantly like this:
When I arrived home that night after quitting the course, I said to Hervé: I think I’ll never want to make money off the things I really love, and I don’t know if that makes me an idiot.
I think that makes you a really cool person - he said.
💖
I don’t know if all this brain dump/ecstatic rant has made any sense to you, but it has felt incredibly good to write it and send it to you all. THAT’S WHAT I MEAN! This is my newsletter.
Thank you for this honest self-analysis, I often feel forced to like something because it’s supposed to be good and formative for me and don’t dare to express my disappointment or dissatisfaction, particularly when I pay for something I usually force myself to enjoy it so I can’t tell myself I’ve wasted some money/ time 😅, this is refreshing to read and very empowering!
I hate how everyone feels like you should monetise your passion. What’s wrong with hobbies? This isn’t just a millennial thing. My passion is sewing and I’m nearly 50. When I was made redundant a few years ago I got so tired of being asked my similarly aged colleagues why I wasn’t going to do sewing as a career. Because then it wouldn’t be fun?! And what would I do to destress? I respect everyone’s right to do what they want but I can’t think of anything worse (till I can find someone willing to pay me to sew exactly what I want, for myself, at my own pace…). Well done for stepping off that treadmill. If you like writing, write what you want, when you want. Life is too short to not not have hobbies.