Writing life

Wow, it’s been a while. Much has happened in my life since I returned from my last big trip to India (and Italy and London,) but most important news is that I’ve doubled down on writing. I’m working on a tv script, a short film script, and then maybe a book of essays (or a memoir… haven’t figured it out yet.) Ooh and I’m back to daily meditation and yoga, and even some regular exercise. Doctor says 150 minutes a week so I’m getting at it! (Ugh, grunt, woe is me and my flabby arms.)

I’m not sure why it took me this long to commit to this level of consistency all around. I’m not jinxing myself by saying it, I know that life comes in waves, but I am glad to be here, at this point in my life. I think taking a trip to see some of the worst poverty in the world (hello, India) combined with having a birthday just shy of 50 has made me realize there is nothing else I’d rather be doing than this. I realize how privileged that makes me, and I am grateful.

I can’t say ‘I love writing!’ because that would be a bold faced lie. What I can say is that I know it is the work I need to be doing, right now. Stories to be told, truths to be unearthed, imagination running wild. That part I love.

One part I don’t love is trying to ignore everything I read or have read about breaking into writing as a profession. For example:

You will never sell your first pilot (script, novel, essay.)

If you don’t do x, you won’t have y.

No one ever starts their script with z.

The television industry will tear you apart. You will not survive!

You see where I’m going. I was discussing this rhetoric recently with another writer. We concluded that it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and anyone who takes all of that to heart and leaves the craft wasn’t meant for it in the first place. It IS difficult to separate oneself from the work, but a necessary exercise to let go and move on.

So, the silence in this space is unintentional. It’s not personal. I love the blog format, especially when traveling. But right now, I am focusing on the hard work of getting shit done. On doing what’s important vs. doing what’s urgent. And on not giving up.

Ever.

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Jackhammers and hummingbirds

Last week, I saw Elizabeth Gilbert speak about her new book, Big Magic. At one point, someone from the audience asked a question I’ve been asking myself for years. What if you just aren’t the type of person who is going to be obsessive and committed and dedicated to one thing, your whole life? Does that make you any less of an artist, writer, poet, painter, baker, banker, etc.? What if you’re good at a few things but not great at any one? Should I give up now and save myself the trouble?

One of the things the Live Your Legend group requires via self-exploration is to find the thing at which you are an expert, and be an expert at the thing you are passionate about. When Elizabeth received the question, she gave a great analogy. She explained that she is a jackhammer. For as long as she could remember, she wanted to be a writer. She announced it at a young age, and pursued it relentlessly, obsessively, admitting that this often made her unaware of many people, feelings, and things around her. She became the great writer she wanted to be. But then there are the hummingbirds. Those who bring nectar and curiosity from one blossom to the next, who find things beautiful that she might have missed. The cross-pollinators, who are inspiring in their own right, trying new things along the way. It was a kind way to answer the young woman’s question. The truth, of course, is that if this woman wanted to BE any one of those things, she probably would have pursued it by now. Or maybe she’s just flitting, floating and years from now she’ll discover she really loves knitting and open an online shop selling her wares. Or not. The percentage of people who fully commit to their craft, their business, their talent, is small – relative to the population of the human race. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, that’s not what I’m saying. Most of us are working hard, maybe even loving what we do, but we’re not all capable of being geniuses, of being the next Elon Musk or a Pulitzer Prize winner. I know – I sound like Debbie Downer but I think a healthy dose of realism wouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t have to be a depressing fact. It might actually be liberating to stop putting so much pressure on ourselves that because we live in America, we must innovate/create or die – each and every one of us. Maybe its alright to just enjoy a bottle of wine and a good meal with the people you love, talk about what’s going on in the world, plan a trip here and there, learn something new, and age healthfully. Maybe the only thing I will ever be an expert at is loving my son and my husband, or how to find the best desserts while traveling.  And that doesn’t feel like defeat, it feels like acceptance. Maybe even relief.