I give up.
Take this job and shove it.
We’ve all been there. Hell, we’ve all very likely been there more than once. There was this one job, way back in college…
Never mind, let’s…err…not discuss that particular incident.
Bad jobs aside, that “I quit” moment can come all-too often in the other spheres of our life just as much as it does with work. I have, for instance, mentioned my serial bachelorhood more than once, I believe.
But what happens when that moment hits you as a writer? Writing isn’t, for me, a job; it’s who I am far, far more than what I do. So what happens when you face that Johnny Paycheck moment in regards to the words? That’s more than the song, that’s more than walking out on a shitty job, that’s real.
I hit that moment.
Oh, I fought it and fought it. I did whatever I had to to balance the “real world” with the writing. But still everything paled and faded. The words and emotions and thoughts weren’t the same. I wasn’t even connecting with myself, let alone with a reader.
I’ve said it before: I write this blog for others, but I write the stories for me. When even that fails, something has to give.
I had to give up, I had to shift my focus and my efforts. I had to quit.
I quit the real world.
As writers we always talk about the stakes for our characters. What do they have to lose? What is at stake?
Well, for me the stakes were huge: I had writing to lose.
I gave up everything else instead. I put my life into storage, grabbed a couple of bags and agreed to a deal to live and work in Yellowstone for the next six months.
It’s made all the difference.
The words are back, and the honesty and truth of the emotions. I work my ass off five days a week…I hike and camp and drink my ass off the other two days…and I write every chance I get.
Wait, you thought I was gonna quit writing? Are you nuts?
It’s who I am.