Dear Geist,
Am I going about writing the wrong way or am I just perverse? For years I was filled with great story ideas and dreamed of serious time to write, but I had a young family to support. Then miraculously I got an arts council grant to finish my collection. I got my wish to work all day every day on the stories. And I’m miserable! I don’t like most of what I write and I stare into space and feel lazy and guilty. Any advice?

Dear D.R.W.,
Many a writer wonders how the work of writing came to enjoy the reputation of a glamorous joyride. Fulfilling, yes. Fun, sometimes. Also lots and lots of second-guessing and self-criticism, plain boredom, days of fevered writing followed by dismay at the useless results, or days of not writing at all and who knows why, a week writing and rewriting one sentence and watching it get worse and knowing you have to keep throwing down terrible versions to get the good one. And so on.
Over time, you’ll accept these conditions as part of the process. In a radio interview some years ago, the host asked Alice Munro whether it ever gets any easier or faster. She said it didn’t, but that she did have a memory of being able to resolve the questions and doubts, which kept her going.
In short, D.R.W., to us it sounds like you’re really writing. Good art grows out of discomfort, not contentment. If you were sailing through the work with no moments of frustration, chagrin, panic, gloom or attacks of impostor syndrome, we’d be giving you a different answer.
The best antidote to the down side of writing is to hang around with other writers. Join a writers’ association, start a writing group (your public library may have some ideas for you), go to literary readings and festivals. Hang out, and hang in!
—The Editors