Venting OK, so here are my reasons.

[anonbpdgirl]

I'm feeling particularly disparaging lately, and felt close to posting this on Twitter, which is a pretty shitty idea. So here it is instead, because suicide won't leave my head. Here are my reasons:

1) I HAVE NO FUTURE: I've spent the last five years in education, attempting to get closer to the field I want to be in (which is either to professionally write, or work within publishing). However, I'm starting to apply for work experience schemes and various short term internships or publishing days. I want to boost my chances of making into this difficult field of work. But I'm being rejected constantly. I'm being told by varying folk online that publishing houses don't care about degrees, only experience. I feel stuck in the age old "how can I get experience if you won't give me any?". It's just tough. Why are my dreams so high? Why will I settle for nothing less?

2) I'LL NEVER MAKE IT AS A WRITER, EITHER. I've written a book. I think it's pretty cool, and trust me when I say I've done a lot of work on it. I've had other people, even professional writers and successful academics, say that it's good! But when I'm trying to get it out there, I'm getting nothing but rejection as well. I've revised my queries, worked endlessly on my manuscript. It's just rejection, rejection, rejection.

3) IF I CAN'T BE A WRITER OR WORK IN PUBLISHING, WHAT'S THE POINT? I don't want to waste my life doing something I'm not passionate about. 40+ hours a week in minimum wage hell... Just fucking kill me now. I don't want to live counting pennies, doing work I despise, living in shitty conditions. What's the actual point? Like for real? Why?

4) I'M OBESE. I'm trying to fix this, but it's difficult and slow. And then I get into depressive-suicidal phases like this and wonder what the fucking point is, anyway.

Suicide seems like the only way for me. When I think of the future, I don't see hope of what could be. I see job rejections for no plausible reasons. I see my writing being dismissed endlessly despite my university degrees and acclaims. I see myself ugly, alone and afraid, living in a small room in a shared house, eating nothing but pasta and cheese and self-harming in the night.

Why should I bother? What's the fucking point anymore?

- anonbpdgirl
x

 

[Caenis1999]

Hey. From what I know, it's an industry where it's good to "know someone" like so many others. And it has to do a lot with chance. I wrote a book. It wasn't a "real" book as it was only online. But it felt okay as it wasn't really self publishing. I got less than 900$ from it, over 3 or 4 years. You might do what you love, but you won't get rich from it. It's not even a decent pay for all the hours you put in it. Maybe publishing isn't the only thing you can look at. Journalism? Writer for a news or entertainment website? Sometimes, it feels a little comforting to know you do something you like when you have to skip meals or eat the same thing three days in a row.

I'm obese too. And you'll face a lot of rejection in this industry, even after you make a name for yourself. They seem to prefer women who smile easily, say yes to everything and are the usual pretty. There's not much I can say to make you feel better I'm afraid but I fully understand as I went though the same struggle for years.

 

[Wayfaerer]

I'm in a very similar predicament as you OP but my passion was in science. Made it all the way to just needing THREE classes to graduate, but I became suicidal for unrelated reasons at the wrong time. When it comes to college, if it isn't STEM then you are really going to have a hard time in life unless you went to an ivy league school (ez mode.) When it comes to the publishing industry, I've heard that it's only about contacts and nothing else. It's a hard game to get into.

I also relate on the obesity. My field of study requires a lot of physical activity and that helped me out of an 8-year-long rut but now that I'm suicidal, I just don't see the point anymore in improving myself. After all, I'm going to be dead in the near future so what is even the point of having a nice body? I've been binging on junk food and getting no exercise for over a year now and it feels like it.

 

[TheNextScreen]

I'm feeling particularly disparaging lately, and felt close to posting this on Twitter, which is a pretty shitty idea. So here it is instead, because suicide won't leave my head. Here are my reasons:

1) I HAVE NO FUTURE: I've spent the last five years in education, attempting to get closer to the field I want to be in (which is either to professionally write, or work within publishing). However, I'm starting to apply for work experience schemes and various short term internships or publishing days. I want to boost my chances of making into this difficult field of work. But I'm being rejected constantly. I'm being told by varying folk online that publishing houses don't care about degrees, only experience. I feel stuck in the age old "how can I get experience if you won't give me any?". It's just tough. Why are my dreams so high? Why will I settle for nothing less?

2) I'LL NEVER MAKE IT AS A WRITER, EITHER. I've written a book. I think it's pretty cool, and trust me when I say I've done a lot of work on it. I've had other people, even professional writers and successful academics, say that it's good! But when I'm trying to get it out there, I'm getting nothing but rejection as well. I've revised my queries, worked endlessly on my manuscript. It's just rejection, rejection, rejection.

3) IF I CAN'T BE A WRITER OR WORK IN PUBLISHING, WHAT'S THE POINT? I don't want to waste my life doing something I'm not passionate about. 40+ hours a week in minimum wage hell... Just fucking kill me now. I don't want to live counting pennies, doing work I despise, living in shitty conditions. What's the actual point? Like for real? Why?

4) I'M OBESE. I'm trying to fix this, but it's difficult and slow. And then I get into depressive-suicidal phases like this and wonder what the fucking point is, anyway.

Suicide seems like the only way for me. When I think of the future, I don't see hope of what could be. I see job rejections for no plausible reasons. I see my writing being dismissed endlessly despite my university degrees and acclaims. I see myself ugly, alone and afraid, living in a small room in a shared house, eating nothing but pasta and cheese and self-harming in the night.

Why should I bother? What's the fucking point anymore?

- anonbpdgirl
x

I wonder if you can get your book for sale on Kindle. Or find some link and offer your book for a contribution.

There is a female author, Kameron Hurley, whom I really enjoyed one of her sci-fi stories, The Stars Are Legion. The book was 5 bucks on Kindle. I knew she didn't make much on that so I went to her website and found out she is a struggling author who won an award but still wasn't making ends meet. I sent her two separate contributions for 20 bucks each as a thank you for a really good story and to help a fellow human being.

Being successful takes more than ability, it takes luck and social networking. Without all of that in play becoming successful is tricky because the level of success rarely has much to do with ability and hard work. Look at all the pop music schlock over the decades.

 

[Umbrellaterm]

STOP EATING CANDY U F F