Lately, I’ve been questioning all sorts of things that I considered basic truths about myself.
Chief among them is WHY do I want to write?
Writing is a tricky thing. It’s a creative power, like music and art.
But it’s also a tremendous responsibility.
Writing opens doors that I’m not sure I want opened, honestly.
Sure, I could continue publishing and make money.
Maybe even a lot of money.
But with each piece I publish, I surrender more of my privacy.
And the very act of writing demands solitude. To do it for a living mandates a life of constant isolation. I don’t think I want that. But writing has been the most consistent aspect of my life– how can I break that pattern now?
Also, I don’t want to be so “in my head.” I’d rather be doing more practical things. Interacting with people.
I feel lately as if the bravest thing to do would be to NOT write. Life live without chronicling it!
But it’s ingrained in me. It’s who I am. It’s something I need to learn to manage.
Writing can become a compulsion, like any other.
Temperance. Maybe that’s the lesson artists need to learn.
Can I learn it?