Passion isn’t Always Enough

Image by owlbookdreams via Flickr

The end of November is closing in on me and I can’t help but look back and ponder on the events of this month and its importance to me.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, November is National Novel Writing Month.  I can’t tell you how hard it has been to stay on track with a project of this magnitude – writing a novel in 30 days.

It’s made me question myself and the way I view my life.  If you were to ask anyone who has had even one conversation with me, you would know that I am extremely passionate about writing.  I eat, sleep and breathe the written word.  Regardless of all that, this month has been more challenging and exhausting than any month I’ve ever had in my life.  Sticking to something that should come so easily to me (after all, I love doing it) was harder than I ever could have imagined and begged me to ask the question

Is passion enough?

I’ve learned that no matter how much I enjoy a job or work of any kind, including writing, I seem to approach it with a half-ass attitude.  There are so many other things that I could be doing right now instead of hammering away at my keyboard at 80-some odd words per minute.  I have over 300 movies in my movie collection as well as a subscription to Netflix, I have several video games that I still haven’t completed and about 20 or so unfinished books to read.

I have literally wanted to be a writer since I was able to pick up a pencil.  Why is it just as difficult to force myself to write as it is to get myself up early every morning for work?  After 9 hours of work, how can I expect myself to sit down and write for another few hours?  The answer is simple really:

I don’t have a clue!

My passion, writing.  And if only I had the time to do it every day.  That’s the excuse I make after my Weeds marathon with my wife.  Did I really need to watch so many episodes?  Probably not.  Was it more important than my writing?  Every day that I gave in to that urge, it was.  I treat the opportunity to veg out and let my brain retard itself into a stupor with equal or more respect than my passion for writing.

How embarrassing to think that I once thought like that.  The rewarding and euphoric feeling I have every night when I turn out the light knowing I’ve written my 1,667 words for the day (sometimes more) is 1000-fold the relaxation I feel while I drool at a digital video.

The more blogs I read that are written by true writers, the more I see that I’m not alone in my struggle.

– Paul Scott

P.S.  Special thanks to Cordelia, whom I pretty much stole the idea of this blog post from.