Mid-life Writing Crisis

I guess I hope I’m in mid-life; I’d rather be there than in three-quarter life. Wherever I am,  I am in a crisis. I used to be happiest when I was writing. I rarely experienced writer’s block. I saw stories everywhere and was never at a loss for something to write. Most often, I’d have two stories going at the same time–one in revision, one in its earliest draft. Right now, I do have two stories going and I’m excited about both, to a degree. But so much of the joy has gone out of the physical act of writing. I am tense while I’m writing; I question the point of it. I’ve become so tied up in whether a story will be published, whether I’ll be “successful” and whether my “writing career” will finally take off that it’s difficult to lose myself in the story. I’ve had many stories  published, so I don’t even know how I define success or career; I just know that I don’t feel I have either, and I don’t know what to do about this. I know that I can’t stop writing because if I could, I would have already. I’ve let other activities that once defined me drift out of my life. But writing never drifts. So, if I know nothing else; I know I’m a writer. As I work through this, I remind myself that writers often suffer. Who am I to think that it should be easy? Maybe this is my form of writer’s block and I have to do what everyone else with writer’s block has to do–just keep getting into the chair and picking up the pen or turning on the computer.  Or maybe I have to do what people in mid-life crises do–buy a sports car. But I can’t afford the sports car and I don’t think it would solve anything. Maybe I’ll buy a new pen. (More to come as I work through this.)