I was recently asked what would make me happy with regards to a career. What could I see myself doing for the rest of my life that wouldn't make me miserable? The answer was simple: writing. But it was the follow-up question that struck me: "What are you doing about that?"
It gave me pause. I've already blogged about how my self-doubt works its magic and leaves me feeling inadequate with regards to my writing, but that's only part of it. One of the other key factors is that my brain moves a hundred miles a minute. I have been woken up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep until I've gotten an idea out of my head. The notes app on my phone is actually filled with typo-riddled 2 AM brainstorms.
While this should lend itself to a career that is as inherently creative as writing, it also has the detrimental effect of rendering countless projects obsolete as new ideas take over. On my hard drive, there are no less than eight different stories in varying degrees of completion. Some are outlines, some are very rough drafts, some are extended passages that have been edited and re-edited possibly dozens of times to the point where I feel they're as good as they're going to get. The only thing they all have in common is that none of them are finished works. Some of them date as far back as 2000, including text for a planned graphic novel I was collaborating on with an old friend.
That's just on my personal hard drive. Somewhere amongst the things I salvaged from the house fire in 2009 are handwritten pages that were never transcribed to my PC, and my Drafts folder in my e-mail at work has a few more roughly constructed ideas. Then there are the ideas I've been carrying around in my head for years, including an entire collection of horror-themed short stories that I had planned to turn into a collection. Some of those stories are more than a decade old as well.
Much like my favorite musician, Prince, I often find myself getting bored with old ideas once new ones come along. While I'm pointing out similarities, writing is, in some ways, like dating. The best part of writing is typically the beginning - when fresh ideas spill freely and you're typing so fast you can barely keep up with them. That's when it's really exciting, and after that initial excitement wears off, it becomes a grind. You still love it deep down, but you get comfortable, complacent, and you start to take it for granted that you can take a night off. That night off then turns into two, then three, and before you know it, it's a week... Then a month... That's how it always goes for me. I write so much when I latch onto a new project that I burn myself out.
Writer's block is a horrible thing, as any writer, aspiring or published, can attest. There are few things more frustrating to would-be wordsmiths than watching that Goddamn cursor in your word processor of choice blink repeatedly. It becomes a sign of mockery, but after writing feverishly for several nights in a row, I always find myself staring at it, daring me to continue, and no matter how long I sit there, how hard I wrack my brain, the cursor always wins.
Not anymore.
To quote one of my favorite bands, "I ain't losin'. Cause this one's for me."
In the last three days, I've begun focusing on my writing again. Why? To prove a point. I'm going to prove that fucking cursor wrong. I'm going to prove to everyone I can do it and make those who've told me I could all along proud of me. But most of all, this one's for me.
I'm going to prove it to myself. Someone else's words - or challenge - may have been the catalyst, but this is for me first and foremost. If nobody reading this post right now ever reads the finished product, that's OK, for there will be a finished product at least. If it never gets published, I will at least be able to look at my completed story and say, "I did that, and I can do it again."
Making a full-time career out of writing is very difficult. Unless you become a best-seller, chances are it will amount to little more than supplemental career. I would probably still need to hold down a full-time job, but I would at least be able to temper the frustrations by coming home and doing what I love on my own time (or during my downtime at work, for that matter). I don't care if it's my career. I'm going to do this. For too long I've gotten in my own way. I've let that vile, heinous cursor mock me. I've let my doubt cripple me, and I'm not going to accept that anymore. I deserve better. I've been through too much shit in the last two years, and I need to do something I can be proud of. I'm tired of feeling defeated whenever I try my hand at something. I can accept failure at the hands of something I cannot control, but I cannot continue to accept self-defeat. Fuck you, cursor! I've got your number now, and just wait until you see what I've got in store for you. You'd better be prepared for a workout, because the last three days have been foreplay. The hot and heavy stuff is still to come.
Yes, I wrote today. Yes, I'm happy with what I wrote. Yes, I already know what I'm going to write tomorrow. Yes, it's still going to take some time - possibly a whole year - because I need to pace myself to avoid burnout, but most importantly: Yes, it will get finished. Nothing short of my death is going to derail me this time.
I may still take a day or a weekend off, and that's OK. I can't beat myself up over that. I'm entitled to that too. I don't want to become the stereotypical eccentric shut-in we all imagine writers are. I can still buckle down and do what I need to in order to make a better life for myself without ignoring my friends or my other hobbies. I just need to manage my time better. I need to push myself, and if some of you want to push me too, that's fine. Friends, feel free to kick me in the ass if you ask, "Did you do any writing yesterday?" and I non-chalantly respond, "No." Mock me. Challenge me. Encourage me. Do whatever you see fit if you think I'm slacking.
I'm gonna do this. I'm going to prove to myself, to everyone else, and most of all that fucking cursor, that I'm capable of seeing a story through to completion. If it never sees the light of day, so be it. I'll try again. I just need to know I can do it. I AM GOING TO DO THIS.
"I ain't losin'. Cause this one's for me."
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