When Thomas Edison wrote those words, I don’t think he had the intention of using them as a kick in the ass for me.
However, since reading that quote several days ago, a kick is exactly what it was.
A couple of weeks ago I had a four day bout of madness – I wrote, created new sites, worked on my portfolio, worked on some submissions non-stop. I would go to bed around 4am, wake up at 8am and repeat. I lost track of time, skipped meals, stayed in a dishevelled state and became unrecognisable to my cat.
After the four days I felt alive and complete. I had done all that I could and had worn myself out. On the fifth day I couldn’t do anything more than sleep, but that was OK because I felt I had deserved it. I promised myself that the next day I’d do it all over again.
But the next day, I didn’t. I didn’t on the 7th day or the 8th day either. The 9th day? Forgetaboutit.
A whole bunch of things started to go through my brain and I started to have issues again with writing. This frustrated me because I really thought that I was finally comfortable with all that I was doing.
I wasn’t.
Even though so many positive things were happening – two articles behind me, another coming out in January, and a book project that I was possibly going to participate in, endless means of support from readers and other artists, I was still scared and unsure. I was holding back from all that I could do, and was frustrated with myself for that.
I used to take leaps and bounds and dive right in but with writing, with art, I have taken such little steps, sometimes testing the waters first. I’ve been trying to do it “right” and “practical” and “logical” and with no mistakes. I’ve been scaring myself into perfection, which I now know is not only stupid, but also impossible. That combined with my fear and self doubt had manifested itself into a nasty little writers block and if I was going to get anywhere, I had to deal with it. I had to stop holding back and do all that I could do.
That’s why the quote from Edison really hit me hard and woke me up.
When I worked for those four days straight doing everything I had to do no matter how tired, hungry or cranky I was I felt so complete and alive. I didn’t question once if this was OK or if I was on the right track. I just knew because I felt it. The days that I do less, I feel less.
I keep thinking that because I’ve been a freelance writer for over seven months now that things should be perfect and smooth. I should have it all together and the whining should be minimised and perhaps eliminated completely. But I’m still learning, still trying to find what works for
And I think slowly, I’m figuring it out.
