On a daily basis, I neglect to do the one thing I wish to do: write. I’m not talking about my usual writing–blog essays, grant proposal narratives, technical writing–I’m talking about REAL writing–creative writing. The very thing that stirs my soul is the very thing I give the LEAST amount of time to during my busy day. It frustrates me to no end and makes me wonder why.
I’ve accumulated scores and scores of mini-narratives scribbled by candlelight, moonlight, and early morning light. Over three-quarters of my roughly 100 post-it notes stuck and taped to every surface around my desk are ideas for special writing projects. As I played the California State Lottery last night, I speculated that, should I win the lottery, I’d spend the rest of my days writing . . . errrrr, and pursuing music (playing, singing, writing) . . . ummmm, and also advancing in my jewelry making . . . errrr-ummmm, and having a real go in a woodworking shop building what lives in my imagination . . . oh, and working in some capacity (satisfying a need for structure and focused productivity), even if only to figure out a way to make any of these core interests a source of funds to help out a worthy cause.
So you see, the only thing that gets in the way of my creative writing and me is me! Honestly, all of these pursuits nag at me for attention, but avoiding writing and music particularly pluck on the guilt strings of my heart. Avoid? Yes, in a way, I suspect I avoid these two. Why? Well, I suspect for one that I’m a tad bit afraid to find out how good or bad I am at each. Paraphrasing Abraham Lincoln, “better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” My biggest concern is the amount of time writing and music promise to command from me. I suspect I will be absorbed by them. I fear the obsession that comes with that territory when I try in a multitude of inferior ways to express emotions I cannot tame nor name. I experience that here on this blog where slews of topics taunt me until written. Of my vine-like post-it note infestation, a great number of them are ideas on blog topics that have woken me in the night, or forced me to scribble on torn pieces of paper on my steering wheel while driving and trying to keep my eyes on the road.
The obsession scares me enough to avoid that which teases me, and yet I also suspect if I continue to avoid, I will not be me. I know I am supposed to write and I know I am supposed to play music. I suppose I’ve known it all my life. I know that if I write and play music, I shall finally BE.
What is it you know you are supposed to be doing? Are you doing it?
If not, why?
If yes, do you have any advice to share about obsession as expressed in career, exercise, or hobbies? Does it keep you away from your loved ones?