Girl In the War by Josh Ritter
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| This is at the top of my wish list. I love old fashioned typewriters! |
As I'm waiting for my background check to go through so that I can begin my new job (fingers crossed that it's sooner rather than later), I've been taking a much needed vacation. Most of this vacation has been spent cleaning the apartment and getting the last of my things unpacked and put in proper places.
But usually I'm done with that by ten, because I'm still getting up at 7:00 each morning and it doesn't take very long to get my act together (I have a rhythm: get up, make coffee, clean any dishes left from last night, make my oatmeal/other such breakfast, make the bed, clean up the room, then wander the house and tidy up). So, after that, I'm writing.
It's been a long time since I've really had the drive to write. As I think is the case with a lot of aspiring writers, life tends to get in the way. You work a full time job (because until you make enough money from your art, it's hard to make ends meet with it), you have friends, family, and loved ones with whom you feel obligated to spend time. You have extra activities; in my case, I'm also a professional cellist so if a gig comes up, you can bet I'm using my extra time to practice. And then, as you get older, buying groceries and taking care of children can get in the way as well.
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| "I just want to write the great American novel!" |
With all of the crap of day-to-day life taking over, it can be hard to find the time to write. Usually, when you find that time, you're tempted to use it for recreational activities like hiking, biking, running, watching television, playing video games, or reading. This is what I've seen happen with me.
But then I left NYSIF, and I'm waiting for paperwork and background checks to go through so I can start my new job. All of a sudden, I have all this time on my hands, and just as suddenly I'm down with writing again. Part of that comes from the fact that you can only clean a kitchen, vacuum a flat, or play Binding of Isaac and Skyrim so many times before you need something else to occupy your mind. Hence, my drive to write has returned.
It's kind of gotten me thinking about the question of motivation.
When I think of motivation, I think of it on two different levels. The first level being your drive to do something - being motivated to do what you're doing. I suppose that level is more of an adjective-type version. The second level for motivation is the idea of what motivates you. Motivation the noun. What is your underlying reason for doing what you're doing?
With those definitions in mind, I found myself reflecting on myself in the past couple years. In truth, I've been doing a little bit more of this over the past few months - curious about what it is that drives me. So, I've looked at my motivation and my motivation, and I found both to be lacking. No, there is not a typo in the previous sentence.
First, my motivation(adj.): This has been a frustrating thing to realize about myself, but I haven't been motivated. I haven't felt the strong desire to write I always used to - even through college, when I was going through the stressers of being an RA, my Grandfather passing away, difficult breakups, and the whole Senior Project process, I was all about writing. I can make up excuses like "oh, I've just been busy. Or, oh, I've been suffering with anxiety and depression, and cynicism in the face of this dark world." However, those excuses only go so far until they become just that: excuses.
People these days often use being cynical about things as an excuse for inaction. I believe a certain amount of fatalism can do you some good, but when you get to the point of "why do anything? nothing's going to change," then you move on from fatalism to nihilism. I am what I like to call an "optimistic fatalist." Meaning that I use fatalism to keep myself from getting overwhelmed by frustration and anxiety, but I keep optimistic that we can exact change, and we will with persistence. I've watched a lot of people in my life, however, barely put forth any effort for the things they want, and then give up as soon as it doesn't go their way. When I ask why they didn't try harder, they say things like: "it was never going to work out anyway," or "the system has made it impossible to make any headway."
And, in a lot of ways, I've given in to that mentality and I've allowed myself to lose the "optimistic" side of my "optimistic fatalism." I've allowed myself to become a borderline nihilistic, highly anxious person. It's amazing how quickly you lose the motivation to do anything when you basically think: "Well this world is falling apart - everything's gone to Hell and there's no point."
I have hope, though, that recently this optimism has returned. I'm optimistic about my optimism. Overall, life looks a lot better to me than I thought before. Sure, there's some scary stuff in this world - some petrifying stuff - but there always has been. And there always will be (just as the news will always be around to give the most dramatic, sensational spin to the dark stuff in the world). And there will always be good in the world - there will always be greatness. The problem is that it tends to get buried under a pile of drama and negativity, both of which are much easier to come by than positivity. My motivation has been lacking, but as I become happier, it grows stronger.
Then there's my motivation (n.): When I looked at my motivation for writing Marcus, I was a little appalled at what I found. At some point I had started to think: this is what's popular, so write the story this way. To my great self disappointment, I found that I had become motivated by the desire for popularity and money. I was hoping to become famous through my storytelling.
I've always fancied myself the kind of writer who is above all of that. I've always said: "I just want to tell my story. I think it's a fun story, and if I entertain one person, I'll have done my job." But one day, I was reading through what I have written of Marcus and I was disgusted by it. Not because it was badly written, but because it was nothing like what I'd originally set out to tell. No, I'm not going to scrap it for the umpteenth time, but I do have to make some major changes to my attitude.
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| "I'll use a fountain pen to write. Those are cool again, yeah?" |
It's amazing to me how weak of a motivator greed is, and yet we as a society have come to value money above all else. We've forgotten the importance of basic human decency. We've forgotten that there's a difference between understanding how much money you need to get by (and maybe now and then wishing you had a little more), and using money as your only motivator. We'll sell our souls, and maybe a friend or two up s***'s creek, for a buck extra. Capitalism has become consumerism, and we are no longer people in each other's eyes, but walking moneybags. It's also what (I believe) has brought our movie industry to the verge of ruin (total sidebar, I know). But that's a rant for another day, if ever.
The point in what I'm saying is that, with money and fame as my motivator, I forgot that not only is it incredibly rare that a writer becomes famous, but it also is probably why I've scrapped and restarted this series so many times. It's simply the wrong motivator if I want to tell a good story, and it disgusts me that, at one point or another, I became willing to sell out.
But no more. Maybe it'll take some soul searching, but I'm going to write. I'm not going to try and do what's popular, but I'm going to write a novel that has something to say and, barring that, tells a good story. Because, of course, what's popular is not necessarily a good work. From here on out, I need to look into my heart and write from that.
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