What If This Isn't It?
Friday, January 30. 2009
WARNING: Melancholy blog entry ahead!
How does one determine what it is that one is good at?
I've recently (within the past year) learned that music is not something I'm actually good at. It's something of a shame to come to this realization at this point in my life, because I've been involved in some way or another in music since I was in elementary school, and I've been playing keyboards in public almost constantly since ninth grade...up until the spring of 2008. I don't believe I've even touched a keyboard since then. I've come to the conclusion that I've wasted enough time on something that's clearly a dead end for me.
So I've been working at writing semi-seriously now for perhaps five years. I count the beginning of my "semi-serious" writing phase as the time in May 2004 when I took a personal retreat to the Mayan Riviera and spent a week in a little bamboo hut on the beach working on my writing. When one actually pays money to an airline associated with a hobby, it seems to me it's no longer simply a hobby.
Now, I haven't spent the time that I should on writing since that auspicious beginning, as I often (perhaps ad nauseum) lament in this space. But I'm getting better at setting aside time for writing. I'm getting ready right now to get on a plane from Phoenix to Charlotte, and I plan to spend all the time I can on that flight (until my netbook battery runs out) writing or editing. I am indeed applying myself to writing, in hopes that I will prove to be a success at it.
But what if I'm no good at this, either?
What if I never get published, and twenty years from now I finally give up? What then? Shall I try something else, see if I do any good at that? What if I finally find something I'm good at when I'm 90 years old? Will I even have time to enjoy the experience? (And hopefully, it won't turn out to be something like extreme mountain-biking.)
I don't know the solution to this problem. All I can do is keep pounding away at things I like to do—like writing—and hope something positive comes of it. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll find myself on my deathbed and wonder why I wasted my life on things I couldn't succeed at.
Where's that reset button?
WARNING: Melancholy blog entry ahead!
How does one determine what it is that one is good at?
I've recently (within the past year) learned that music is not something I'm actually good at. It's something of a shame to come to this realization at this point in my life, because I've been involved in some way or another in music since I was in elementary school, and I've been playing keyboards in public almost constantly since ninth grade...up until the spring of 2008. I don't believe I've even touched a keyboard since then. I've come to the conclusion that I've wasted enough time on something that's clearly a dead end for me.
So I've been working at writing semi-seriously now for perhaps five years. I count the beginning of my "semi-serious" writing phase as the time in May 2004 when I took a personal retreat to the Mayan Riviera and spent a week in a little bamboo hut on the beach working on my writing. When one actually pays money to an airline associated with a hobby, it seems to me it's no longer simply a hobby.
Now, I haven't spent the time that I should on writing since that auspicious beginning, as I often (perhaps ad nauseum) lament in this space. But I'm getting better at setting aside time for writing. I'm getting ready right now to get on a plane from Phoenix to Charlotte, and I plan to spend all the time I can on that flight (until my netbook battery runs out) writing or editing. I am indeed applying myself to writing, in hopes that I will prove to be a success at it.
But what if I'm no good at this, either?
What if I never get published, and twenty years from now I finally give up? What then? Shall I try something else, see if I do any good at that? What if I finally find something I'm good at when I'm 90 years old? Will I even have time to enjoy the experience? (And hopefully, it won't turn out to be something like extreme mountain-biking.)
I don't know the solution to this problem. All I can do is keep pounding away at things I like to do—like writing—and hope something positive comes of it. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll find myself on my deathbed and wonder why I wasted my life on things I couldn't succeed at.
Where's that reset button?
How does one determine what it is that one is good at?
I've recently (within the past year) learned that music is not something I'm actually good at. It's something of a shame to come to this realization at this point in my life, because I've been involved in some way or another in music since I was in elementary school, and I've been playing keyboards in public almost constantly since ninth grade...up until the spring of 2008. I don't believe I've even touched a keyboard since then. I've come to the conclusion that I've wasted enough time on something that's clearly a dead end for me.
So I've been working at writing semi-seriously now for perhaps five years. I count the beginning of my "semi-serious" writing phase as the time in May 2004 when I took a personal retreat to the Mayan Riviera and spent a week in a little bamboo hut on the beach working on my writing. When one actually pays money to an airline associated with a hobby, it seems to me it's no longer simply a hobby.
Now, I haven't spent the time that I should on writing since that auspicious beginning, as I often (perhaps ad nauseum) lament in this space. But I'm getting better at setting aside time for writing. I'm getting ready right now to get on a plane from Phoenix to Charlotte, and I plan to spend all the time I can on that flight (until my netbook battery runs out) writing or editing. I am indeed applying myself to writing, in hopes that I will prove to be a success at it.
But what if I'm no good at this, either?
What if I never get published, and twenty years from now I finally give up? What then? Shall I try something else, see if I do any good at that? What if I finally find something I'm good at when I'm 90 years old? Will I even have time to enjoy the experience? (And hopefully, it won't turn out to be something like extreme mountain-biking.)
I don't know the solution to this problem. All I can do is keep pounding away at things I like to do—like writing—and hope something positive comes of it. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll find myself on my deathbed and wonder why I wasted my life on things I couldn't succeed at.
Where's that reset button?
Craig on :
Brent on :
Jimmy Anderson on :
Brent on :
Irian Carnelian on :
As someone who does write and play songs sometimes, I don't necessarily (on the surface) like the idea that "writing and making music are at root, about the effect they have on others." But the reality is that such is probably true for most people for whom song-writing is a serious goal. This is just being realistic. It seems to me that performance arts have to greatly involve the issue of performance.
Brent on :
I think the most important point here is the distinction between doing something as a hobby and doing it as a devotion, and that's what your post speaks to.
Wonder what Telso Bidcon would have to say on the topic? Or even more importantly, Cisum Kcor? Wait, I already know, never mind.
Irian Carnelian on :
Craig on :
One doesn't just run a marathon; there is a great deal of preparation the goes before. That requires dedication even when the payoff is unsure. The biggest difference is that there is a specific date in the future that the payoff will or will not take place. In writing, that date is very uncertain and not guaranteed.
As a reader, I can get a sense when an author is telling a story because he cares about the story and when he cares more about what the reader thinks about the author.
Brent on :
Craig on :