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.
