I’m writing this at 2 in the morning. On the weekends 2 is still a half-hour out from bedtime. My wife and I recently had a conversation about these late nights. The conversation started off about the amount of time outside of work hours I spend working. I tried to explain that not everything I do is slaved to the one job. I write professionally and that has nothing to do with developing curriculum or grading papers. Unless you are a writer or artist it appears to be impossible to understand that people may pour hours and weeks into a task that pays them pennies–if anything at all–because they love doing it.
Writing is a responsibility. The moment you recognize that being a writer is who you are, you have a responsibility to that role. You are required to write. It may be called a hobby or a career but it is really a calling. Like a religious calling, the only people who are going to understand that are the people just like you.
Some Thoughts:
- Saw hints of that killer instinct in my middle child today. He threw himself in harms way to get the results he wanted. He played hard and never gave up. Nice work, kid.
- Staying away from information about Breaking Bad’s series finale is about as hard as dodging a mosquito in Arizona.