Ya know. Throughout my unemployment thus far, I wanted to try to use the time that I would’ve been at work toward writing instead. Obviously writing about the same things for eight straight hours sounds like a daunting task but I was determined to try my best. But it seems my best is three hours tops, let alone at all. At first I thought there must be something wrong with me. I know this is what I want to do with my life. I have no illusions about that, because I really enjoy it more than anything most things.
And in realizing that I enjoy it more than most things rather than anything, I also discovered that it’s okay that I don’t have that tenacity of a truly driven writer. I may not be cranking out the novel on ‘schedule’ but I’m cranking it out nevertheless. Writing is fun and liberating and fulfilling and bunch of other adjectives but so are several other things I enjoy too.
I won’t lie, it is a little frustrating in the grand scheme of things that I sometimes find it hard to sit down and write. Sometimes I just want to play a video game or hang out with some friends or just not. But I’m trying to get okay with the fact that my progress, by definition, is whatever I want it to be. I don’t think it’s something as trivial as fear of failure or fear of judgment, but simply a constant fluctuation of desires.
Sometimes I wake up and writing is all I want to do and sometimes the thought of it tires me. I used to get so mad at myself for just not wanting to do it sometimes. But I can’t just force it. I’ve had ideas out of the blue that I probably wouldn’t have had a few months ago. One quick interaction has the potential for serendipitous discoveries. Time is proving to be one of my greatest motivators and, looking back, I may have been foolish to see my time ‘wasted’ as solely negative.
If all good things really do come in time, then perhaps I’ve got something great. But of course I know that I can’t declare my own work as great. That’s a decision left up to my readers. I can only hope that I don’t let them down when it’s finished, but I may arrogantly say: I know I won’t.
mack rogers writes 