It’s not that I’m in a bad mood, or anything. It’s just that the thought of writing is just… exhausting right now. I’m kind of exhausted, right now. Not that I have any particular reason to be- I’ve been getting my full complement of sleep each night, and haven’t been hitting the gym much harder than usual (I picked up one extra class to sub- that shouldn’t make a difference). The thing is, I think it has far less to do with my physical shape and far more to do with my mental.
(Do you see how I am oh-so-cleverly tricking myself into writing, even tho’ I don’t feel like it? Discipline, thy name is Trickery…)
I was about to turn this into a whine-fest about Nathan being out of town (and possibly causing one or more of you to vomit regarding my still newlywed-ness towards him) but instead I think I’ll turn it into an exploration of what it means to be a writer. That is, what it means to treat writing as your job (which all the experts agree you must do if you ever hope to reap rewards such as being published) (or, you know, finishing a book). And when you treat something like your job, that means you don’t get to not do it just because you aren’t in mood. At least, I don’t. Not at this point.
Which brings us back to this rather lame little blog entry, which I am diligently typing up as I sit in the library, waiting to go to my second (or would that be third?) job at the gym. Which I also am not in the mood to do, and yet… I guess this is called being a grown-up.
Nathan is a very gifted musician (bear with me, here- this ties in) who has elected not to pursue any sort of professional path with that gift. If you ask him why he will tell you it’s because he loves playing guitar- and he is afraid that if it were to become his job, something he were obligated to do, he would stop loving it. Part of me wonders if it would be the same for me and my writing, or my art… but in my heart I don’t think so. Sure, I’m sulky about writing this right now, but then I remember that I’m not actually doing this for anyone but myself, and if I don’t do it- if I break that commitment I made to myself to write something every day (regardless of how “not in the mood” I am) I will be in a much worse mood. Not to mention disappointed in myself. And then there would be guilt (my least favorite emotion), and a sick feeling to my stomach, and it would be just generally bad all around. All in all, much easier to suck it the hell up and write this now than deal with future-Jenny-O guilt.
Plus, you know, if I stick to this I’m pretty sure I get some sort of bragging rights. There may even be a plaque involved. You know- for commemoration.
Just sayin’.
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