A wonderfully written piece, made all the better as I read and nodded in agreement. Then I stopped. Wait a minute. I re-read, and still agreed, but there was something nagging me. Finishing the piece I discovered what gave me pause: The sacrifices we make to be a writer.
But are they really sacrifices? In a world full of ego, self-inflation and indulgence, we love to hear of the sacrifices being made. If a person “gives up” something, then they must deserve something else, right? (As in getting published, maybe?)
I have a different take on that. I believe, as a writer, I make the choice to write. Yes, that certainly involves not doing something else. But if I sacrifice my participation and enjoyment of one activity to take time to write, a couple of things happen:
(1) I’ve placed more importance on the activity sacrificed than I have on the act of writing, which…
(2) Means I’m more susceptible to distraction because I’ve got this other “thing” out there that I’m not doing so I can write.
As such, the writing can become a burden, something I must do because I’ve foresaken all else. Personally, I don’t need the added pressure. It’s hard enough as it is.
Mr Dorchak was spot on when he wrote:
Because it’s part of you.
Because you can.
Because you’re a writer.
So I make the choice to write and enjoy the journey, which means I’ve made the choice not to do something else. But it’s my choice, made of semi-sound mind, to do that which makes me most happy for those precious moments.
Isn’t that what this is all about?