So it's Friday afternoon, and I'm sitting in a coffeeshop in Milwaukee and listening to Big Star. This is not just any coffeeshop, mind you; it's a hip (read: non-Starbucks) bright little place with bright sticker-covered windows and hardwood floors and potted plants and people smoking. (Remember that, Chicagoans?)
When I'm working on something I'm really excited about, there's no happier place for me to be. But the book's on hold, and I don't have any reviews in the works. So I'm feeling less like a writer indulging in hackneyed habits, and more like a guy who's just trying to escape the real world and go off into his own world for a little bit.
I'm trying not to be a whiny complainy tortured-artist type. My biggest problems today are an inattentive agent and a little writer's block; there are far worse problems to have in this world. But as Neil Young says, "Though my problems are meaningless, that don't make 'em go away."
What does make them go away, then? Doing the proverbial "next right thing." Getting out of my head and helping other people. Living in the world and engaging them, rather than withdrawing into my head.
I've learned that life works best when I believe that everything happens for a reason, when I trust that I don't always know what's good or bad for me but believe instead that God's got my back and everything, both the things that seem good and the things that seem bad, are gifts from a loving God who has my best interests at heart. I've been told that every problem has a gift inside, and sometimes, to get that gift, you have to get that problem.
It's hard to always believe that.
But ultimately I have to, because the alternative is to believe in a world of random rewards and random punishments, a world of ultimate pain and futility where there is no hope other than oblivion. I've lived in that world; it really sucks. I'd rather not go back, and I know I don't have to.
So, as mentioned above, I just have to keep taking action. I'm not writing to complain here, or to piss and moan; I'm writing to write, because I know that even if I write crap on any given day, I've still done something. It feels a lot better than not writing anything, and anyway, I can always go back and edit it.
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2 comments:
I am really hard on myself at this point in my life because I am not writing anything I'm excited about. I haven't completed a manuscript in my life yet either. I have ideas that pop up here and there but I find myself doing things like getting certifications at work and taking Spanish classes with my time instead of putting pen to the big ideas I have for potentially great fiction projects. When I really need to get something out, I just fart something out that's 300 words or less and post it under a pseudonym. Enough about me.
There is a term farmers use for when land gets depleted of nutrients and needs to sit for a while to recoup. Fallow. It may not be totally necessary for all, but it's okay to lay fallow for a while - especially after major accomplishments, such as writing a book and sending it to an agent, no matter how long it takes to hear something back about it. Enjoy your coffee in Millewalkay.
Thanks! I think you're right--I have been a little hard on myself. I do find it sometimes helps to write whether or not I want to write, but it also helps to wait around for something I'm actually excited to write about, which is one reason I like writing reviews--I can almost always get excited about favorite books, albums, etc. Anyway, I haven't had any new fiction ideas I'm consistently excited about in a while, or if I have, they're vague and ill-formed. And that's kinda scary, but I suppose I should just accept it and deal with it and be a little realistic about it.
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