This is a moment every writer experiences. It arrives after months of writing about too many things that you simply don't want to write about, leaving you with little to no time to pursue writing projects that you care about. Suddenly, you find yourself sitting in front of your computer staring at a piece that you've just written and feeling utterly demotivated and, frankly, inadequate. Everything you write starts to sound the same, and you start to hate it. You hate the form, you hate the content, and you certainly hate the grammatical flourishes you've added to try and make it unique.

I've been stuck in this moment for ages now. Every single thing I post seems redundant or boring. I complain about the same things; I praise the same feminist agendas. I just can't seem to write anything that I consider above average, let alone attention-grabbing.

The thing is, that's okay. It's okay to despise your creative talent for a while. In fact, it's good. This period of time forces you to try new things, to search for inspiration, and, most importantly, to grow. It's perfectly acceptable to grow out of your own style of writing. It just means that you now must go and discover your new "voice," your new personality on paper.

However, what is not okay is giving up. It's not okay to realize that you can't stand your writing and to simply stop altogether. To drop it completely is to permanently freeze at your current level, and to give up any hopes of becoming a better writer.

I tried giving up anyway, though. I didn't write a topic for several weeks. I didn't read. I barely managed to scribble down a few observations at the end of the day. Then, I realized that this was worse than hating my own writing. I realized that I was giving up on my passion and allowing self-deprecating thoughts and lack of motivation to determine whether I could be a writer or not. I started reading again. I read anything now: books, magazines, blog posts, listicles. I don't care what it is, because there's a potential that there is some personal truth hidden within the piece, or some inspiration to be found.

I've started writing again as much as possible. I write in my journal, I write my Odyssey pieces, and I write personal essays. I'm struggling to find my new "voice," but I know it's there. I know that if I keep trying, whatever this new style is will start to form.

That's what it means to be a writer.