2008

2008-me thought that one summer would be ample time to finish a first novel.  Technically, that was true.  2008-me was working full time for the first time all summer long, but there was still plenty of time during nights and weekends and even the downtime at work, if nobody else was around.  But 2008-me didn't write a novel.  2008-me barely wrote a chapter.  It wasn't until 2008-me turned into 2011-me that anything even close to a full manuscript was produced.

I'm beginning to become afraid that I've become (or always been) a let's-do-that-someday guy.  These are the people who have large ideas and are especially receptive to new experiences--in conversation.  "Yes," they'll tell you with a smile, "I'd love to go camping sometime this summer."  "We could absolutely make our own short film."  "I think I'm finally going to write that book."  You get the idea.

It may be my greatest fear as a so-called creative person--that all along, I've simply been in love with the idea of being a writer and the idea of being a musician.  If that's the case, wouldn't it make more sense to drop the artistry idolship and move on with my life?

But then I think back to 2008-me, and the reason he was able to believe he could handle writing a novel over the summer.  Because he felt the desire to do something with the ideas in his head.  The same feeling 2003-me had when he first stumbled upon the ridiculous notion of NaNoWriMo.  The same feeling I get now, that not even the most pragmatic of adulty real-world thoughts can strip away.

It's the feeling that says you've got something you need to be doing, and it doesn't care how many excuses I feed it.  The trick is to realize that feeling isn't there to make me feel like a useless person.  It's there to push me forward and remind me doing nothing leads to nothing.

I've said the same thing a dozen different times over the years--sooner or later, the message has to sink in.  It's late and the living room is excessively warm, and I'm going to put in some genuine keyboard time instead of laying down and wondering why I didn't.  Have a good night, internet.