Making it Work

Some days I work well under fire. The pressure of a looming deadline is enough to burn out the detritus. I throw words down, caring more about the getting there than the how.

Other days, I follow a meandering path. The feel of an idea tugs me along, begging to be expressed. The what of the work is more important than how far it takes me.

Still other days, I might as well throw darts at the dictionary and see how many times I can use the skewered word in a paragraph before the sight of it turns my stomach. At least doing so would result in sentences being produced.

I've breezed through 2500 words in one sitting just to struggle with 500 the next.

Conventional wisdom tell us to write every day. Doesn't matter what or how much. Just hit the page.

But if, on those slow days, it takes me four hours to get those 500 words down, wouldn't my time have been better spent doing something else? Planning a challenging scene to come? Making notes for potential revisions? Networking? Blogging? Research?

And that doesn't even take into account the spontaneity of life.

For those of us who live in a world where we're forced to pursue our dreams part-time or not at all, writing everyday is not only impractical but impossible.

Thus, the insistence that we must do so in order to be "real writers" serves only to  heap on guilt and doubt. And we can do that to ourselves without any outside help.

So what's a more realistic alternative?

Do what works for you.

Each writer is different and works from a different environment. It should go without saying that we'll all approach the work in different ways and at different paces. Yet we're told to adhere or have our pen privileges revoked in the name of protecting the efforts of "serious writers."

Completely ridiculous.

If you have to take notes through the week and power write on your day off, do it. If you need to spend months on a super-detailed, moment-by-moment outline, have fun. If you need a little less (or a lot less) structure, go with it.

Every trick and technique in the world is a tool, not a taskmaster. Make them work for you.

Finding Permanence

Permanence. Legacy. Meaning.

At some point in our lives, we all come to a point where we wonder what mark we've left on the world. What have we contributed to society? How will we be remembered?

The difficult part is eventually coming to the conclusion that at some point in the future, our contribution will be forgotten, no one who remembers us will be alive. So how do we leave a lasting impression when everything we know and do will eventually become obsolete and forgotten?

It's much easier than it sounds.

Step one: realize that people, ideas, and things are impermanent. New people will be born. New ideas will take shape. New things will be made. Your personal permanence will not be found pursuing them.

Step two: recognize that the only permanent thing in this universe is change, flow. No matter how we try to stop it. No matter how much we cling to the past, the future will come to pass. The new will replace the old. Sometimes this will yield productive consequences. Sometimes it won't. But it will happen.

Step three: understand  that you have a role in that flow. Each new person born has a place in the flow of the universe. That place is determined by their individual skills, desires, backgrounds, and opportunity. It is by striving for this place and being willing to allow ourselves to be that person that we find our permanence.

Meaning and legacy and, yes, even permanence, are found in the impermanent, ever-changing landscape of time. Permanence is found in the archetypes, and plenty of them exist for all of us to claim as our own.