I don't know why this baby-sized irritant stuck in my brain, but it has now formed a worm-hole straight to the heart of my White Molten Rage centre and I need to go on a petite rant.
A couple of weeks ago, someone congratulated me on getting my piece accepted into the anthology. Then they said something about how great it was that I have time to write. Yes, it is great, but let's examine this closely, shall we?
This Person seems to think a band of sneaky faeries dropped a whole bunch of gift-wrapped Time on my doorstep one night.
This pisses me off to no end. I have no more time than anyone else. It's like the money thing, which I will rant about later. Although unlike money (which is the second most popular 'I can't live the life I want' excuse), everyone is allotted the same amount of time. Twenty-four hours in each and every day.
What you do with your time is your choice.
If you want to off-load the responsibility for why you aren't writing with a line like 'I don't have time,' you go ahead and do that. But don't be naive and think that I somehow won the Time lottery and have extra hours in the bank somewhere.
I choose to use my time to write. This Other Person chooses to use it for things that are not writing. Good for us. Let's move on.
Money. Again, this is a choice. I have chosen to use my money to live as an artist. In fact, that gift-wrapped Time those faeries dropped off? I BOUGHT IT. I use my money to buy myself time in the form of basic life expenses: housing, transportation, food – and very little else. The more money I have, the more months I get to write full-time and begin my career.
Much like I don't spend time on things that aren't writing, I'm not interested in spending my money on things that don't buy me time as an artist. I have no interest in constantly upgrading my entire collection of material possessions (home, car, clothing, electronics). I have no interest in going to a lot of restaurants and bars (where a bottle of wine costs at least double what it is in a store).
Life is a series of trade-offs. You trade your time for money. You trade your money for time. That's how it works. There are no elves or faeries or magical formulas. There are only the choices you make.
I know this is really ranty and tough love-y, but I was one of those 'I don't have time or money' people, too. Those excuses robbed me of a lot of years. But, once I understood, it was very freeing.
I don't care if my clothing is out of style or if people don't like homemade Christmas gifts. I'm finishing my first novel – something I've wanted my entire life. I would rather have that than a new sweater or someone's approval. As far as I'm concerned, I'm getting the better end of the deal. And so could you. If that is what you choose.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment