Some days I love my work. My fingers fly across the keyboard like they were born for this moment. Other days, I drag myself out of bed somewhere around 11 am, mechanically pour the coffee, and then walk the ten feet to my office to churn out crap that makes me wonder if I should just give it up and call my old temp agency. Maybe they would let me answer phones again.
I pull up the website, and just the sight of their logo makes my stomach turn to rocks. I browse Craigslist and think about writing music reviews for thirty cents a pop. I sigh, and think about Anne Lammott. Someone once asked her why she became a writer. She said, “Because I love it, I’m good at it, and aside from it, I am completely unemployable.” I love that response. My sentiments exactly.
Now firmly reassured that I have no other choice, I pull up the file. I think about the day my protagonist entered the burger joint with the band. He feels very uncomfortable in this moment, and rightly so. He has no idea why life has taken him to this point. He is starting to wonder what it would take to extricate himself from the life he has unwittingly created…..
I think life is a bit like this. You start with what you are given, and work to achieve something close to what you see in your head. Each day, you rise, and chip away bit by bit at your dream. Some days large chunks fall off, and you can see something shaping. Other days, you fall into bed, sweaty and exhausted, not having broken off so much as a sliver toward the life you are trying to achieve.
Some curl up and die in their heads. Others find other projects ones that are less taxing and easier to achieve. But, if you’re smart, you keep chipping away, believing that one day, this masterpiece will shape into something beautiful…