Every day I get up and turn on my laptop. Soon, sometimes sooner than I think, I am looking at this blank page – wondering just what the fuck I want to write about.
Then the work begins, and I am jotting something down, cursing to myself and wondering if any of this makes sense.
I’m going to get meta here.
As much as creating is catharsis, it is also work. If, and I really mean if, you decide to do it, prepare to work. And as you work, realize that most of it is unseen, happening in the mind. No one gets a front row seat with your dance of fear, the beads of internal sweat that transforms themselves into stomach pangs that function as a barrier to and a signal that you might be on to something.
But that isn’t “the work,” is it. “The work” is what happens next, when you find yourself surrounded by “life.”
It boils down to this question:
Are you willing to work until your shift is over, no matter what?
Hard to answer, even harder to do. Life is a great at throwing you an excuse. Can you dodge them for just today?
If you can do that, try for tomorrow, too.