what's it all mean?
Aug. 13th, 2007 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
albionidahoThe writing has been going well for the last week. I've done some rewriting work on a short story, been working on a new short story (three handwritten pages a day), and working on one of the novels.
It sounds like a lot, doesn't it? I assure you it's not really.
I have been feeling a little bit like a failure lately, and I think that I've been feeling this way unnecessarily.
This year I have written some new stuff, I have sold one story, seen one published, I have dealt with a house that seemed to decide it was falling apart once we found a house to move into (e.g. the basement flooded, just for starters), I moved to a new town, kept my kids alive, had a pregnancy for ten weeks (the first twelve or thirteen weeks are always the worst for me), had a miscarriage that completely beat me up for about three weeks, worked on settling into a new house and town, kept myself and my kids alive... And I've read some great books. (One for every week this year.)
So why do I feel like a failure?
I feel like I lost control of my life for a while, particularly in terms of my writing and my body.
I woke up this month, feeling better than I have in almost a year, and I took stock. I didn't like what I saw. My body is out of whack and out of shape after the last several months and I have several short stories that are in zero draft, and that's all. They should be making the rounds by now, for crying out loud.
And I think a lot of my disgruntlement comes down to expectations, and I am realizing that I've had expectations for myself I've never consciously realized.
I tend to be a pretty high functioning person, and it feels as if I haven't been living up to this. I remember in grad school I read at least 1,000 pages a week (don't ask if I really retained it all -- none of us did), and wrote at least 100 pages of academic work a week, often more. And perhaps that's partially why I feel as if I'm not living up to my potential and have been wasting time. Logically, I know this isn't true. Life has changed, for one thing. I have kids, for example. And I can't forget that it's been a bad year, after a bad winter, after a bad year, after... Life happens, and there's not a lot one can do about that. One can only do the best one can and then moves forward. Right? Right.
I still feel a little bit overwhelmed.
This is what I keep telling myself. Stuff happens, based on our choices or the choices of others. There will be bumps in the road. Sometimes they'll be huge detours, and other times they'll just jostle things around a little bit. One just deals with the bump and moves on, moving towards one's destination at the appropriate speed.
So I'm trying to readjust from my bump and move down the road... Shake it off. But I'm also beginning to realize perhaps my destination wasn't where I thought it was. And perhaps this means I need to turn off onto a different road. Get off the slower rural side road and start heading towards the highway merge.
And be aware there may be more detours, bumps, and even some construction to deal with along the way.
It sounds like a lot, doesn't it? I assure you it's not really.
I have been feeling a little bit like a failure lately, and I think that I've been feeling this way unnecessarily.
This year I have written some new stuff, I have sold one story, seen one published, I have dealt with a house that seemed to decide it was falling apart once we found a house to move into (e.g. the basement flooded, just for starters), I moved to a new town, kept my kids alive, had a pregnancy for ten weeks (the first twelve or thirteen weeks are always the worst for me), had a miscarriage that completely beat me up for about three weeks, worked on settling into a new house and town, kept myself and my kids alive... And I've read some great books. (One for every week this year.)
So why do I feel like a failure?
I feel like I lost control of my life for a while, particularly in terms of my writing and my body.
I woke up this month, feeling better than I have in almost a year, and I took stock. I didn't like what I saw. My body is out of whack and out of shape after the last several months and I have several short stories that are in zero draft, and that's all. They should be making the rounds by now, for crying out loud.
And I think a lot of my disgruntlement comes down to expectations, and I am realizing that I've had expectations for myself I've never consciously realized.
I tend to be a pretty high functioning person, and it feels as if I haven't been living up to this. I remember in grad school I read at least 1,000 pages a week (don't ask if I really retained it all -- none of us did), and wrote at least 100 pages of academic work a week, often more. And perhaps that's partially why I feel as if I'm not living up to my potential and have been wasting time. Logically, I know this isn't true. Life has changed, for one thing. I have kids, for example. And I can't forget that it's been a bad year, after a bad winter, after a bad year, after... Life happens, and there's not a lot one can do about that. One can only do the best one can and then moves forward. Right? Right.
I still feel a little bit overwhelmed.
This is what I keep telling myself. Stuff happens, based on our choices or the choices of others. There will be bumps in the road. Sometimes they'll be huge detours, and other times they'll just jostle things around a little bit. One just deals with the bump and moves on, moving towards one's destination at the appropriate speed.
So I'm trying to readjust from my bump and move down the road... Shake it off. But I'm also beginning to realize perhaps my destination wasn't where I thought it was. And perhaps this means I need to turn off onto a different road. Get off the slower rural side road and start heading towards the highway merge.
And be aware there may be more detours, bumps, and even some construction to deal with along the way.
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-13 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-14 10:36 pm (UTC)I'm really glad you benefited from it. Goodness knows I regularly benefit from yours.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-14 11:03 pm (UTC)Let's try again.
First of all, thanks for your comment and questions, Eric. I always appreciate your insight.
I think when you have kids and are looking after them well, then that's your success right there and anything else you can manage -- especially when the kids are small -- is just gravy.
You are absolutely right. 100%.
I think my concerns are multifaceted. To start with, I'm an American female. My expectations of myself are probably skewed. My culture has told me from an early age I could do it all, that I should do it all. Feminism and all that. (Though this "version" of feminism is skewed itself.)
Also, I'm one of those people who seems to measure success quantitatively -- I seem to like to have something to measure. I think I look back on this year and have very little that's concrete to measure my success by. All my "successes" are abstract non-quantifiable things. How does one measure how happy their kids are? If they're taken care of and are well-adjusted?
So I look at my writing and see very little that I can measure in terms of accomplishment. I have stories, but I don't consider them really done yet. I have pages written, but how do they fit together? They feel just like scribblings at this point, even though they are useful.
And I've hit that stage where I want to be good at this writing thing. I'm competent -- I've sold some stories, some to markets I'm quite proud of -- but I want to be better. I want to write things that some people will enjoy and be touched by. I'm not afraid of the work and effort ahead of me, but I wish I were there already. And, illogical as it is, I feel that I have wasted time and am not as far along as I might have been if life hadn't gotten in the way.
But at the same time I know that experience only makes one a better writer.
So.