This week, I had two unexpected sick days. This means that I had two days to sit and analyze myself and realize, among other things, that I’m a bad writer.
Okay, clarification time. I realize that some people are going to get mad at me for saying that (*cough, cough* Mom), but I don’t mean that I can’t put together a story. What I mean is, how can I claim to be a writer if I don’t do any writing? Sure, I’ve done some writing here and there for work, but really writing — sitting down and getting lost in a story — I haven’t done that in a few weeks. Which is pathetic, considering I have an entire novel that I need to edit so that it doesn’t just sit and collect dust for the rest of eternity.
But so often I let my passion get shoved to the side; I have other things that I need to do first. What is passion if it is not bubbing over the day-to-day, if it is not itching under the skin of basic survival? Why is something I get excited about trumped by things I get less excited about? It can’t be that I don’t have enough time… the amount of Netflix that I watch basically demolishes that excuse. I literally have several hours every morning before I go to work that I fill with Netflix and Facebook and naps.
I think that sometimes we need to regard our passions as work in order to keep them a part of our lives. Just as elementary schools thrive with art classes, so we thrive with the things that make us tick. But if we don’t schedule a period for such activity, it will never happen — when we write something off as “play” instead of “work”, it immediately holds less priority. But it is that “play” that keeps us vitally connected to our humanity. Scary, huh? The thought of becoming disconnected from our humanity because we don’t make time for it?
Therefore, I have decided (once again… let’s not pretend that this is the first time I’ve ever decided this, but this time I’m broadcasting it) to spend three mornings a week in an environment that makes it impossible not to write. This means, for starters, no access to WiFi — if I need to do any online research, I can save it for a day not scheduled for writing. Seeing as how I live on the same block as a coffee shop, I hope that I won’t cave and ask the baristas for the WiFi password.
If anyone wants to join me in my endeavours, feel free to do so in whatever form you see fit. If you want to write, then pencil in a couple of hours to write. If you want to read more, then go to the library right now — then you’ll at least have a book to stare at you accusingly throughout the week. If you want to dance, then why the hell are you not dancing? Do so every morning before you go to work.
We won’t ever be able to reach our ideals if we keep labelling them as possibilities instead of probabilities.