On the subject of… Writing
I've been wanting to do something more with my life for a while now, something I can actually be proud to say that I've done, and this feeling has only gotten stronger since R. came into my life. His effortless ambition and motivation leaves me wishing that those things came more naturally to me, but it has always been a struggle for me to muster the motivation to achieve even the most mediocre amount of success. I'm not sure if this is due to my upbringing, where I spent the majority of my adolescence listening to my father chant "it doesn't matter if you want to do it; you have to," as if this experience instilled some sort of subconscious defiance that renders me completely unable to prove my father right. Or maybe it's because it's simply not in my nature to peruse something that I can't, in my gut, justify as something I want spend precious time doing. Maybe I really am that self important. But overall, the only thing I've been able to confirm without a doubt is that that somehow, somewhere, there is a disconnect in my mind between doing things I don't want to do and the things I need to do in order to achieve success. They never seem to be one in the same.
This is why I've been fairly content with my current career path, even if it doesn't put me on the road to wealth and riches. If it came down to a do or die choice, I would prefer to live modestly for the sake of being able to wake up in the morning and not completely hate my life for the next 8-10 hours that I'm at work. And that's how my life is right now - I can wake up in the morning and really have no remorse or regret about having to go to work that day. In my own way, I enjoy the fact that I prove my father wrong every single work day, as he couldn't seem to fathom the idea of having a job that you didn't absolutely despise. I was always taught that you would never like your job - and yet, here I am, content where I am.
Or am I?
Despite my skepticism, I have always been a creative person. I have kept this website open since the summer of 1997. In the beginning, web pages and graphic design took the place of my hobby of drawing. It also took the place of my career plans, because I went from being a "Cartoonist for Disney" to "Graphic Designer with an office in New York."
For a long time, I primary web pages and filled them with text. Over time, however, my web pages became text surrounded by a web page. If I really had to be honest with myself, that is the real reason why I continue to pay $9/month for this website, the real reason why it just doesn't feel right not to have some place on the internet... because what if I needed to write? What if I simply had to, wherever would I put it? On my hard drive maybe, where no one would ever see? No, that won't do. That was always the thing about my writing. I couldn't just do it - someone had to read it or it was as if it didn't exist. My writing is that poor tree that falls in the forest - someone needs to hear it or else the very existence of the action is in question. If no one reads what I wrote, was it really written at all?
And so, we come full circle - me dealing with this dilemma of needing to want to do something, yet having all of this really unappealing stuff I have to do in order to be successful. And I'm fairly certain I'm happy, but what if I took a harder look at the things I want to do? What if, hiding right under my nose, there was something I wanted to that I could also be successful at?
The idea of being a writer is something I've tossed around before. I've mentioned it whimsically in this journal a few times already, and usually nothing came of it. This is primarily because that while I may be able to write to a sufficient degree, I always seemed to fall sort of coming up with an actual story. Minor detail, right? Exactly. If you can't come up with a story you might as well enter data into a computer all day which, what do you know, that's exactly what I've been doing for the past four years.
But what if... I came up with something. An idea, with a full group of characters and a world of conflict. What if... I feel really good about it. And what if... I was already on Chapter 2.
Maybe I could be a writer. Maybe I really could do this, and maybe I'd even excel at it. Maybe writing a book could be the first thing I would ever be proud to say that I do.
Although, it will take some time for me to keep a straight face when saying "I'm a writer." Has anyone ever been able to say that without all those within earshot immediately thinking that this person must be one of the most pretentious, self righteous messes that they'd never want the displeasure of talking to? The audacity of someone calling themselves a "writer!" How about calling yourself a princess and asking me to kiss your feet while I'm at it!
On second thought... maybe that's a perfect fit for me.
May 17th, 2009 - 08:13
I’ve never thought that being a ‘writer’ was ever the same as another job one takes to pay the bills… it’s more like a career choice or a creative profession. Getting paid to write means you get a large sum of money for what others perceive to be a small amount of effort. But what were you doing to create that work of art? Putting in as many (if not more) hours as anyone else with a 9-5 job. The difference, however, (and this is key) is that being a writer means you’re an ‘artist’ and you have the luxury and the income to do other things with your time than just work like you would be doing at another job. I think a lot of people underestimate the kind of freedom that writing (and all other art forms) allows. You’re creating and using up all that excess energy instead of storing it away and hoping it never disappears.