First of all, I DO write fiction, or at least, I did. In replying to Matt, I sent him links to the two-part story I wrote as supplemental material for my friend Shawn's last novel. After sharing the links, I re-read that story, and you know what? It's freaking good. Not only is it good, but I actually like it. Not only do I like it, but other people, whose opinions matter to me, like it. Why then, did I stop doing something I like and am good at?
The answer isn't easy, but it is simple: because I don't like it right now. Why don't I? That's not so simple. My hope is that this is just a temporary state of being brought on by ennui and general sick-of-it-allness with regard to how I'm currently earning my income. I've been working as an independent contractor, and the work I'm doing is just not stimulating. It's like endless homework assignments for the boring class I can barely stay awake for on the days I force myself to show up. It's not that it's difficult work - it's that sitting down to write used to be something I looked forward to. Now, I'd suddenly rather do the dishes or watch endless Three's Company reruns than compose sentences, so when the paying work is done, I'm so sick of writing that the novel doesn't get worked on. No PoetryAssignment entries are done. No PopBunker posts get done. This blog doesn't get updated.
In short - the joy is being unceremoniously sucked out of writing. This is a problem.
Problems, however, have solutions, and I refuse to accept that this solution is an empty set. I'm going to start right away applying for different jobs. I'll have to give up being able to set my own hours, leave when I want, and work from anywhere, but I still think it'll be a net gain.
This recession is a bitch. I feel compelled by it to say that I'm grateful to have any income at all, even though it breaks my heart to hear how many friends are saying the same thing as they spend day after day in jobs they hate. We are all grateful just to be able to survive. That is so far from okay that it's not even funny.
I will not be defeated by it though. You know what I did yesterday? I sat on a (really tiny) stool at Meltdown Comics and interviewed Scott Ian*.
I sat there, with a microphone up my shirt and hot lights on my face, talking about comic books with an honest to golly rock star so you know what? You're damn right I am not working just to survive. I've been invited back to Meltdown next week to join the guys on their podcast to talk about women in comic books.
I need more of this in my life. These things make me feel alive again. Last night, when Vito from Comics on Comics asked me how I felt about being on camera, I said, "not a problem," out loud while a hyperactive pogo-stick went off in my chest. Even though I was terrified enough to send a couple of spastic text-messages to Michael, who I knew wouldn't hold it against me later and gave me a calm shot of confidence in return, there was not a chance in hell that I wasn't going to see this through.
I can't express how truly grateful I am to have had that experience, and that's not obligatory gratitude to which I feel duty-bound to give lip-service so the Universe won't smite me. That's real thanks, for answering the question "why the hell am I here?" My mind, heart, and spirit have all taken a beating lately, and this chance to be among people who care about what I care about, who refuse to settle for mediocrity, and be not a spectator but a peer among them has re-lit my pilot light.
*For an in-depth report, video of the interview, and chance to win autographed copies of Lobo: Highway to Hell, keep an eye on PopBunker.net.
4 comments:
Your instincts are correct. Don't let it not be fun anymore.
I have always always always loved reading. Always had a nose in a book. Always reading whatever I could get my hands on - cereal boxes, shampoo bottles, anything.
And then I got a job as a copy editor at a newspaper.
I was getting paid to read!
And when I got home at the end of the day, I couldn't read more than a page or two of a book. I had to watch TV or do something mindless.
And even now, that I'm not an editor anymore, I don't read books like I used to. I definitely do it more than I did during the 7 years I worked at a newspaper, but even being gone from there - I cannot read ANYTHING now without editing it. It's what I do now. It's in my brain all the time.
I miss reading for pleasure.
Be careful.
(not that I need to tell you. You are on the right track.)
(No, I wasn't editing this blog as I was reading. Okay, that's a lie.)
Oh, and thank God you know how to write. :)
Thank YOU!
It's not just the writing itself, I think. I don't know how you do it! You must have awesome clients or something.
This whole, having to rely on copy editors to approve things on THEIR own time before I can get paid is really stressing me out. I have work I've completed in the queue, but if they don't work, I don't get paid for what I've done. It's just too stressful, not knowing how much my paycheck is going to be.
The snowflakes work on your blog. Thinking of putting them on Mindspeak, although that's rather festive. I think in mine, yours, and anyone's situation, you have to evaluate what is priority for you. Your life sounds really adventurous to me, as a stable working, mother of two married to a good man that has been unemployed for seven months against his will. I don't want to do writing for a living. I want to do it because I think of an idea, it grows, and thus becomes a big story.
I have so much affection for you and I don't even know you. If you pass thru Austin, please wave, we'll have coffee and I'll leave my cigarettes at home.
Much love,
Carrie
ps. Fucking Scott IAN? How cool is THAT????
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