Groovy, baby.
My college experience didn't start until I had a newborn baby. Because of money, aid and schedules it took me six years to get through community college and another two in a university to get my B.A. It was tough, and I'm proud of that accomplishment. I worked full or mostly full time the entire eight years. After that, I've had several different jobs in different fields, but I would always wonder: “What am I supposed to be doing?” I wasn't particularly good at anything, and an academic degree outside of academia isn't worth much.
I tried computer stuff. It didn't stick. In fact, I hate computer stuff. Truly. I thought about going back for a master's degree, technical writing, becoming a baker, opening a food business with my wife, and a few other things in there that never went anywhere. All of those ideas were hatched, researched, written about and pondered when I had a full time job. At the same time I began to write. I did it in spurts. I go on a tear for months, then I would set it down for months. I wrote journals, poetry, a script or two, and the beginnings of about eight or nine novels. All after work. All in my spare time. (Okay, sometimes I would write at work.)
I just sat down to dig into my third book. I came up with the idea about a year ago, but this year has been busy. I'm an independent contractor, and my workload doubled in March. It was good for the bank account, but writing took a backseat. I just didn't have the time or energy.
But things are waning a bit and I want to be a little more disciplined with my schedule. I have to work in more exercise and home chores, etc. I have an hour a day put aside to write. I’m sitting here during my allotted writing time and I find myself drifting.
The story idea isn't as fresh and I don’t have the initial burst of energy you have to ride until the book becomes real work. It's not writer's block. It's writer's fatigue.
I believe I'm just pining for a life of Just One Thing.
Since those first classes in 1994 or so, I have basically had two jobs my entire adult life. If you include being a parent, (which you should) I've had three. There was always some job where I was mostly miserable that paid some bills, being a Dad, and...the next thing. I've always wondered what it would be like to go to work, come home, and that's it. Nothing but free time.
It’s something that is taken for granted. You work hard all day and then you...do the thing you want to do. I love to write. I really do. But when it’s not there, it’s not there. Writers in general know they have to keep at it every day and there are no excuses for not writing. Keep pounding away until it works. There’s some guilt that nags at me, but that’s the nature of the beast. Every minute not writing is...a minute not writing. I just imagine there may be a few things in life I’ve missed because I’ve been in my own self-imposed night school for over two decades.
At the very least, I could read more.
It’s ego. It has to be. I have a bug in my ear hat I should be doing more. The problem is, I’ve never quite accepted that part of our culture that demands one’s life be filled with achievement after achievement. It’s not laziness. I just accepted something else early in my life. Life is infinite, but human life is finite. Our brains can’t conceive of the vastness of creation and so, to just get by, we assign ourselves chores and goals to not lose our marbles while we stare at the abyss. I don’t believe we are born “with work to do”.
My daughter and I have regular conversations, and a few weeks ago she was worried about her lack of motivation and excitement for the next big adventure (college) in her life. After a while, we boiled it down. She is smart enough to see our culture for what it is, and questioned: “Is this it? Really? You go to school, get a job, pay bills, retire, then die?”
I explained that those things are only what is expected of you. But you truly can shape your own life, and think of it in any way you wish. Life is bigger than the United States, capitalism, democracy, and the Earth itself. (I mean, without life, Earth would be like...Venus or something.)
We feel the need to do more to make the most out of our lives. It’s the what we have a bit of a problem with. That is the question that whispers in my ear. I’m not motivated by more money in my retirement account, or a professional status. Both of those things are cool, and I like cool stuff. But I know me. I would still have the nagging in my brain. All the work is done, I have a nice home some money in the bank. I have the bills paid and my insurance is up to date. But still… What is that other thing I need to do?
What is that thing?
