The consequences of having an artist's soul

People told me I had an artist's soul. I never knew what that meant until recently. Hence the picture of Elektel Delusion above.

When people said they couldn't do something that didn't resonate with them, I got it. You can't make someone do anything. Put a gun to an artist's head and they're more likely to say kill me, than make whatever it is you want them to create.

But the artist's soul thing? Well, now I truly get it...

I've always been a creative but I've been able to create whatever I wanted. When I started ghostwriting, I chose projects based on what I'd like to write.

But I've come to an impasse.

I can no longer write for other people. I can write for readers. I can write the stories that I want my name on. But I can no longer inspire myself to write for other writers that want to take my words and use them as their own.

Ghost writing is different from editing and I still am excited to edit. Especially if they are my author. But I can see that being troublesome to do as a job for money as well. Here's the kicker...I still have projects to finish for clients. I'm in the middle of a paranormal romance and a contemporary romance. But I just can't do it. Not by myself. So I've decided, to get these projects out to my clients on time, I have to contract the rest of the stories out.

I'll edit them to my voice and give them to my clients. But as for ghostwriting myself...I'm done.

After 2 years I'm simply unable, not unwilling, to ghost write. I have an artists soul. I can no longer create things that don't interest me. Maybe I'm fickle. Perhaps I'm thinking about this in the wrong way. But I never want to sit down for 7 hours day after day and try to eek out a paragraph.

This is not simply writer's block.

When I go to write Seducing Sensei, reams of words come out. I go back to writing for others and my "ink" dries up. I write my outline for the next story and my pen overfloweth. I go back to write for others and...nada. I write for a blog post or newsletter and the Iliad is completed with 45 minutes. I go back to ghostwriting and I can't even eek out a word count of 1K.

My artist's soul refuses to work for others.

And now an interlude inside my head...If you substitute "writing" in place of "women" and "they" below, this is what I'm thinking.

I don't understand writing.

Nor do I. But writing understands us.

Maybe not you.

So in my quest to understand writing I've come across this annoying problem. I'd rather write the whole day through, and yet, I can only do it for my stories. The ones I want to give to you. Sorry evangalmarketers, I'm not going to cut the mustard for your kindle-gold-rush suggestions of writing in a niche for the diet section of ebooks.

I write my stories for me and I hope to god that my readers like them. Because I'm screwed if they don't. But at least I'm authentic!

Until next week!
XOXO ~ Stephy