Monday, April 20, 2009

Self Indulgence

I'm currently in the middle of a multidimensional three-way relationship that I haven't quite figured out how to navigate. The participants in this toxic tango are at war with one another, constantly in bed with one member when it suits them, and then sneaking out at one in the morning for a torrid rendezvous with the other. My fiscal responsibilities are at war with my creative drive, and both are in a love-hate relationship with my time availability.

Pumping out creative work that is of a pleasing nature to more than just one's parents is time consuming, and costly (especially when such work requires equipment, knowledge and personnel). My drive to succeed in my chosen industry begins tantalizing me with future bill paying opportunities; all I have to do is sign on the dotted line and commit to two free reader's reports per week, eventually (fingers crossed) leading to a paying job doing script analysis. My fiscal self is screaming "Yes! Show me the money!" but my creative self sulks in the corner saying "Oh yeah hi, remember me and your so-called PASSION?!". This blood feud is coupled with a time barrier that is really rather tiresome, between pro bono work and a day job where most of the people I pour coffee for think I have a speech impediment-- waitress and actress are synonymous some days, and neither are my calling. I could continue, but self pity is never attractive for more than two paragraphs.

I guess posting after ten results in copious whining. Start up the dirges and break out the mourning food, Rachel's got a time crisis on her hands! Yeah, me an the entire universe including anyone who's ever had a dream. Sometimes all it takes is discussing the problem to make you buck up.

On another note, during the proofing of my reader's reports, I've noticed a lack of confidence in my writing. Far too much thinking, perhapsing and maybeing to make a real person believe what I have to say. If I'm not selling myself on my ideas, there remains little hope for someone else to jump up and shout "EUREKA" in manner of Bugs Bunny. Thank you to Natalie Goldberg and her book "Writing Down the Bones" for bringing this to my attention and suggesting some great fixing exercises.

Next post will be decidedly more entertaining and less morose. Many thanks for your indulgence.

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