I’ve been thinking lately about my writing dreams, and the steps I’ll have to take to realize them (the steps themselves are dreams). Dreams: meaning “good luck with that!” At least that’s the sarcasm I hear in my head. The obstacles are many. Not the least of which is I’m running out of fucking time. And, I need to get a fucking boundary
Last April I felt really on track. In the zone. Things seemed possible (though maybe not probable). My trajectory was true. Then I got derailed, for the nth time. You can read about that, and about my throwing my laptop out the window here.
Now I’m feeling hopeful again. Sort of back on track after grieving losing all the momentum and flow I’d built up. And I’m trying to find out this: Am I acting like I’m a victim of interruptions? Or am I not just not doing my part to keep out the distractions and interruptions. Are they the same thing? My thought, even though it pains me, is that I want people to like me. I want to be “nice.” When really, to get anything done, I truly need to be to militant.
And, shit, I’ve underestimated how big a part being militant is, and how maybe that’s the bulk of what makes writing real work: paring down commitments, and availability; junking the junk mail; setting a time limit on how much I read others’ writing (everything is a give and take). I’ve never so keenly felt, known, how the decisions I make today decide my tomorrow (I forget where I read that). And if not now, when? When does it get to be my time?
(I’ve been interrupted half a dozen times since I began this post. Reading it, it feels erratic – I’d planned to write it straight through).
It’s not in my nature, maybe because I’m a woman, to be hard-core-leave-me-the-fuck-alone. And see? I don’t even know how to say it nicely. I know two extremes: Sure, I can do that, and Leave me the fuck alone. There must be a balance somewhere. But maybe at first I need to shout, the only alternative to being run over, used, my needs ignored. Maybe later, I’ll be able to make my way back to the middle.
I don’t love this post. But I’m going to publish it. Even though my voice sounds stilted. But I’m out of time. Today, this is simply what it is.