[My Leap Year is a 12-month life project (begun 11/01/07) at the end of which I intend to be writing full-time. 365 small steps = 1 giant leap.]
No writing Sunday, as always. Day off=good. Erin and I went to the zoo.
This morning was a rough morning, leading into a rough day. I only wrote for an hour before work. Although maybe I should delete that “only” since any day I write is better than any day I don’t.
It was a productive hour, but not all I’d hoped. I read my Parable contract, signed it and put it in the mail, I organized a list of the projects I want to finish off this week and I solved the problem facing me on my first rewrite. It still needs some scriptwork, but I find that easy next to the conceptual stuff.
I’m supposed to be going to sleep this minute if I want my full 7.5 hours on top of writing before work tomorrow, but Erin’s not home yet, so it looks like once again a “plan” has been sidetracked by real life.
Do you ever have fits of doubt where you wonder if, no matter how hard you try, the best you might ever achieve in writing is mediocracy? I do. But ultimately I think I’d prefer that life to one without writing, so I write anyway.
4 Comments
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
I was talking to some people on a message board about something that relates to a concern that you won’t ever be better than just “good”.
I have no idea about how to properly remove the concern or ensure that ones writing will be fantastic, but what’s helped me at a little when the fear of committing to words has paralyzed my progress I just force myself to have fun.
The only thing that disappoints me about my work anymore is if I don’t find it as exciting as the work I love by other writers, what’s the point?
I mean, I’d love to write for a living, but I’m the sort that doesn’t do it for money, and by the same token the times I love doing it the most are the times where I’m enthralled in my own story. So to motivate myself on those days I want to write but won’t bring myself to it I just sell myself on that feeling.
I can now say that I have been writing professionally for about 17 years. In spite of the fact that I have been paid for my writing and have even won a couple of small awards, it hasn’t, for me, turned out to be a way to make a living. But I have been able to be a part of thousands of peoples lives. That is what writing is really about…connecting to more people than you ever could by speaking or going to a day to day job. And maybe, sometimes, making a difference by making them laugh, or cry or for one moment not feel so alone. I have to have a “real” job to help pay the bills but I have to have the real job of writing to have purpose.
…pester…
Prem,
I agree that writing should be something a writer enjoys, but in a general sense rather than a specific one. Not every scene is a joy to write, some are downright antagonistic. But the sense of accomplishment at the end of a scene can be proportionate to how hard it is to get through.