It has been my dream to be a writer for a very long time. I have started different books but never finished one of them. At some stage I always get to the point where I feel that I can’t continue because my stories aren’t balanced; that there is too much bad in the lives of the characters and that I am not able to write nice scenes for them, let them have beautiful experiences like a talk with a true friend. I also have troubles with making things like hugs appear natural. When I come to the points in the stories at which something good needs to happen, a serious writer’s block coupled with a deep sadness sets in and I cannot go on. I put the story aside, telling myself I would one day get back to it. And I get back to the stories, just to start some other story arch. This led to the fact that I wrote dozens, maybe even a couple of hundred pages – but none of them are a connected story. It’s same characters at various stages of the story, but it’s all totally unconnected.
I’ll probably never be a published writer. A translator of other people’s stories, yes, I did accomplish that. A writer of SEO articles – factual things, all not a problem. But writing the story I had in my head for over 15 years… hopeless.