Must...Write...
Sigh. I know it's anathema to admit this, but I still contain, in the dark recesses of my soul, a desire to be a creative writer. I know, I know, it's enough to have me branded with a scarlet 'D' (for 'Dilettante,' the worst slur that can be flung upon an academic) in my scholarly circles, but it's there, dammit, and the fact is, I've got about a hundred pages of a genuinely kick-butt novel written. (Excerpted briefly here: http://willscoffeehouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/mmmf-here-read-this.html ) And everyone--but everyone--who's read it has told me to keep going. (Of course, they may just be treating me with kid gloves, being as how I'm all cute and vulnerable and they don't want to hurt my all-too-tender feelings. But no, I'm friends with enough truly nasty people--like attracts like, after all--that they'd tell me, with relish, if they thought it sucked.) But the damned thing is a serious burden on my time, especially since the damn thing's historical, and that means I gotta do research (what do mean, Dryden can't drive a Lamborghini to his rendevous with Rochester?), and jeez, in the words of Maria Bamford (lovely, brilliant, talented comic--one of the stars of The Comedians of Comedy), "realizing my potential would seriously cut into my laying-around time. I got a lot of s*** to not do." And so, I suppose I have to choose between that and producing publishable articles and the doing of nothing that is really the balm to my soul. (Oh, and exercise. Yeah, right.) Anyway, all this is just a childish stamping of the foot at being told, by my conscience, that I need to clean up my room and do my homework and empty the dishwasher and finish my vegetables, rather that play with my Star Wars action figures--who would win in a fight--Boba Fett or Yoda?--and I'm just venting said childishness in the hope that in really confronting the fact that it is so childish, I'll get off my butt and do something to correct this immaturity. But damn, that Xbox is looking really tempting right about now...
posted by Yr. Hmbl. & Obdt. | 10:17 AM
3 Comments:
I don't really see Dryden in a Lamborghini. Rochester? HE might be in a Lamborghini, but I'm kinda seeing a motorcycle.
You're not a dilettante--you've got dreams and you've got skills, my man, but you have to want to use them (and you have to have the TIME to use them, while still having time to laze about; lazing about is crucial to actually having the energy or desire to do anything). Force yourself to write the publishable scholarship you need to crank out, since that's your *job*, but think about whether you can & want to pursue your fiction now.
But, it's not going anywhere. It will be there when you're ready for it.
Really, do keep going -- what I've seen so far, I've liked a lot.
SCG
Hahaha, this will probably never be seen since it's been added so after the fact. . . but I just want to add that in the 25-30 years of knowing Dryden and viewing Dryden's bedrooms, I've never witnessed any willingness to clean up the stuff scattered about on the floor. But maybe that's because he's got a higher calling to write and not clean.
Post a Comment
<< Home