The Only Way Out Is Through
I saw a post on Twitter recently, and to prove every once and a while something worthwhile gets spewed out there, it inspired rather than irritated me. Of course, being me, I didn't save the direct quote and can't remember it word for word, but the gist of it was that you should never not do something because of the time it might take you to do it, because that time is going to pass you by anyway. And I went, "Huh." Yes, I literally went "huh."
Because it's true, isn't it? And it hit me because it's something I know I do a lot when it comes to my writing, often when Hurricane Sarah is roaring in my nerves/muscles/bones/pick a place and my myriad health issues are pounding me to shit, but sometimes when I can't blame a specific one that day, too. I can remember dozens of times in the past where the idea for a scene, from a chunk of exposition to a lengthy conversation between characters, has popped into my head, but I'd already worked on the story and felt like I'd "done enough," or as much as I could do, and thought I proved myself right by scribbling down notes on the idea and picking up the next day.
It especially happens with my poetry, though, when I glance at the clock and realize I still have to write my daily poem (fodder for another post, I suspect). Sometimes an idea for a poem is there (blessed day), but I can tell it's gonna be a longer one and so I tell myself it's too late in the day to write a long poem out, it'll keep me up too late and then I'll feel like shit tomorrow, go to bed early and just start the poem in the morning, when I have a clearer head, etc., etc, and instead I scribble a short poem out just to keep the streak unbroken. If you're a writer, you probably recognize this bullshit, too. It's common. I've recognized it in myself for a while now, too, even as it happens, and I can tell you, readers, that there's a definite difference between writing just to get something done and writing because you want to do it. What you wind up with the first way makes you cringe; what you wind up with the second way makes you feel like going out and making it rain, which you can't actually do because you're a writer and you're broke. But it's still a good feeling.
Sometimes I'll fight that urge to delay, even if I don't feel 100% or know that poem or scene will take me far, far past my bedtime and I'll be shaky and tired all the next day, and do the work anyway, and you know what? Afterwards, when I have that Norse-style long-form poem done or I've gotten up to a vital scene break or chapter's end, yeah I'm tired and my hand is cramping and I'm in for it tomorrow (or later that day, if it's gone on past midnight), but I also have something done, something I can look over and go "Wow, I'm actually happy with this," something that once the sleep deprivation wears off I might actually still be proud of. That's a much, much better feeling than what happens when I scribble something out just to save time, or sit around wasting time because I'm telling myself I've already done enough that day.
There will never be enough time. There will especially never be enough time if you put off doing what you want to do because "it'll take too long." (On a side note, I'm applying this to writing because that's what I do and what I love to do, but you can take it and apply it to whatever you love but keep putting off for time's sake, whether it's knitting that Cthulhu-shaped hat you've always wanted to or learning how to make quiche.) Some day we will all be dead. Some of us might get to come back as ghosts, and while from the stories I hear some ghosts get to continue doing things they did when they were alive, whether pissing off relatives or doing a transparent horizontal bop, it's pretty clear they won't be able to cross everything off their bucket list that they might've been able to before they met the front of that bus if they'd just done it. It sounds stupid, or obvious, but the only way to get anything done is to do it, just cut the bullshit, stop rattling off reasons why you can't or shouldn't, and fucking DO IT.
I knew this way before I saw that tweet, and a lot of people out there know it, too. But from time to time we all have to be reminded, so that's what this is. It's a friendly reminder from your kindly Aunt Sarah that nobody ever made it through the jungle by standing there staring at the trees and whining about the gruesome death that possibly awaited within. They made it through, and you make it through, by picking up a machete and hacking your way through anything that's dumb enough to get in your way. Sure, there's pitfalls and dangers and disease and really horrible flowers that smell like ten thousand corpses all used the same Port-O-Pottie and might eat you if you get close enough to them, but think about how cool you're gonna look when you stagger out of that jungle at the end covered in mud and blood, machete in hand, knowing you've triumphed over it all. It'll be more than cool. It'll be pretty fucking epic.
Because it's true, isn't it? And it hit me because it's something I know I do a lot when it comes to my writing, often when Hurricane Sarah is roaring in my nerves/muscles/bones/pick a place and my myriad health issues are pounding me to shit, but sometimes when I can't blame a specific one that day, too. I can remember dozens of times in the past where the idea for a scene, from a chunk of exposition to a lengthy conversation between characters, has popped into my head, but I'd already worked on the story and felt like I'd "done enough," or as much as I could do, and thought I proved myself right by scribbling down notes on the idea and picking up the next day.
It especially happens with my poetry, though, when I glance at the clock and realize I still have to write my daily poem (fodder for another post, I suspect). Sometimes an idea for a poem is there (blessed day), but I can tell it's gonna be a longer one and so I tell myself it's too late in the day to write a long poem out, it'll keep me up too late and then I'll feel like shit tomorrow, go to bed early and just start the poem in the morning, when I have a clearer head, etc., etc, and instead I scribble a short poem out just to keep the streak unbroken. If you're a writer, you probably recognize this bullshit, too. It's common. I've recognized it in myself for a while now, too, even as it happens, and I can tell you, readers, that there's a definite difference between writing just to get something done and writing because you want to do it. What you wind up with the first way makes you cringe; what you wind up with the second way makes you feel like going out and making it rain, which you can't actually do because you're a writer and you're broke. But it's still a good feeling.
Sometimes I'll fight that urge to delay, even if I don't feel 100% or know that poem or scene will take me far, far past my bedtime and I'll be shaky and tired all the next day, and do the work anyway, and you know what? Afterwards, when I have that Norse-style long-form poem done or I've gotten up to a vital scene break or chapter's end, yeah I'm tired and my hand is cramping and I'm in for it tomorrow (or later that day, if it's gone on past midnight), but I also have something done, something I can look over and go "Wow, I'm actually happy with this," something that once the sleep deprivation wears off I might actually still be proud of. That's a much, much better feeling than what happens when I scribble something out just to save time, or sit around wasting time because I'm telling myself I've already done enough that day.
Not that all short poems are crap, mind you, even mine; some of the shortest poems I've ever written have been the hardest to catch and get down on paper, and took me longer to get to a final version I'm happy with than those Norse long-form poems. I'm just admitting that at times I've given in and half-assed repetitive, terrible little poems when I've had better ideas boiling in my brain just because the better poem would "take too much time," so when I saw that quote it was a real kick in the ass, because it was someone saying it besides me muttering it bitterly in the dark as I close my notebook on the day's dose of crap; it was outside confirmation, and I have the kind of brain that thrives on that.
There will never be enough time. There will especially never be enough time if you put off doing what you want to do because "it'll take too long." (On a side note, I'm applying this to writing because that's what I do and what I love to do, but you can take it and apply it to whatever you love but keep putting off for time's sake, whether it's knitting that Cthulhu-shaped hat you've always wanted to or learning how to make quiche.) Some day we will all be dead. Some of us might get to come back as ghosts, and while from the stories I hear some ghosts get to continue doing things they did when they were alive, whether pissing off relatives or doing a transparent horizontal bop, it's pretty clear they won't be able to cross everything off their bucket list that they might've been able to before they met the front of that bus if they'd just done it. It sounds stupid, or obvious, but the only way to get anything done is to do it, just cut the bullshit, stop rattling off reasons why you can't or shouldn't, and fucking DO IT.
I knew this way before I saw that tweet, and a lot of people out there know it, too. But from time to time we all have to be reminded, so that's what this is. It's a friendly reminder from your kindly Aunt Sarah that nobody ever made it through the jungle by standing there staring at the trees and whining about the gruesome death that possibly awaited within. They made it through, and you make it through, by picking up a machete and hacking your way through anything that's dumb enough to get in your way. Sure, there's pitfalls and dangers and disease and really horrible flowers that smell like ten thousand corpses all used the same Port-O-Pottie and might eat you if you get close enough to them, but think about how cool you're gonna look when you stagger out of that jungle at the end covered in mud and blood, machete in hand, knowing you've triumphed over it all. It'll be more than cool. It'll be pretty fucking epic.
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