I want to be a writer.
Not just any writer—but a well-known, financially stable one.
It has been my dream for the past five to six years.
But the truth is, I haven’t created anything substantial that proves I’m a writer. Most of my work consists of a few scattered blog posts and some personal, often melancholic reflections. Yes, I’ve written documentation, user manuals, countless emails, exam answers, and even published a journal article with Sage.
Still, I often wonder: with this limited body of work, can I truly call myself a writer? I see so many others writing brilliantly—sharing stories that resonate, inspire, and linger long after you’ve read them.
Most of my writing is read by just a few people—close friends, or colleagues who read my work documentation.
And yet, I do consider myself a writer. Because I write.
I may not be famous or financially successful—at least not yet—but I’m still writing.
Is that enough? Of course not.
What’s stopping me from writing more—better—isn’t lack of talent or ideas. It’s mostly laziness. And anxiety.
Every time I start writing, I feel an urge to make it short—get to the point, wrap it up quickly. I love reading short, crisp content. I want to feel connected fast, and I want it to make sense instantly. So I write that way too.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to explore beyond that comfort.
To stretch a little.
To write more.
Because that’s the only way to become the writer I dream of being.
One of my favourite quote for a long time has been:
The only person stopping you from being best at something is yourself.
Laziness, for me, isn’t just a bottleneck to growth, it’s more like a massive hurdle in my lifestyle, one that has quietly but deeply impacted my physical, emotional, and mental well-being.
I’m not lazy every day. Instead, it comes in cycles. On most days, I work hard and manage to meet my daily goals. But distractions creep in and when they do, they often feed my laziness, acting like fertilizer to a part of me I don’t want to grow. Slowly, the productive version of me gets overshadowed by the one that avoids, delays, and escapes.
This pattern has created frequent pauses and slowdowns in whatever I’ve tried to pursue in life. The only reason I’ve still been able to achieve anything is because I’ve always had an external push, whether from my family, mentors, teachers, colleagues, or friends.
Over time, I realized that a lack of motivation was one of the root causes of my laziness. But here's the paradox: I do receive a good amount of motivation from the people around me, yet I still struggle to act on it. That led me to ask: What’s really missing?
And the answer hit me.
I’ve always had short-term goals, but no clear long-term target. No guiding star. I lack focus and patience. I chase bursts of inspiration but lose steam quickly because there’s nothing grounding me.
I’ve come to see that a lack of focus leads to a lack of meaningful motivation and that, in turn, feeds laziness.
Writing in the age of AI is easy. But establishing your own voice is the hard part.
I’m currently trying to build my own system of writing in this AI-driven world. I’m also working to overcome laziness. I see AI not as a threat, but as a support system. It helps me write better and more consistently.
AI helps me fix grammar. It improves the structure of my sentences and even helps me analyze the quality of my writing. It also gives me feedback on tone. It tells me whether what I intended to say is actually being understood by the reader.
But now, a bigger question stands before me:
Is AI making me lazier? Or is it helping me overcome my laziness?
Honestly, I don’t have the answer yet. It’s still too early to tell.
But when I look back at the past year of blogging, I can say this much. AI has been a helpful companion. It hasn’t replaced my effort. But it has made my writing sharper and helped me move forward when I felt stuck.
Maybe the real challenge isn’t about whether AI helps or hinders. It’s about how I choose to use it.
I may not have all the answers yet: about laziness, motivation, or how AI will shape my future as a writer. But I’ve begun asking the right questions. And that matters to me.
What I do know is this: I want to write.
I want to keep writing.
Not just when I feel inspired, but especially when I don’t. I want to build discipline, find my voice, and create work that feels true—whether ten people read it or ten thousand. And the only way forward is to show up, word by word, day by day.