Of Passion and Pleasure

This past year has been an incredibly stressful one. And, yes, that is in comparison to the absolute and unforgiving hell-scape we all felt during 2020! That's because my dad passing away was only a small part of that equation, believe it or not. It was definitely the catalyst that seemed to start a horrifying downward, emotional spiral for me.

After dad, I felt like I was losing people one by one: friends were getting married and starting families; coworkers were leaving for bigger and brighter dreams; trusted professionals were retiring after decades of dedicated work. All of these things are good things to celebrate - great things, in fact! But when you're still grieving (a universally isolating experience), it's hard to embrace any form of change as being positive. Especially if it makes you feel even lonelier.

Through it all, though, I had my writing. Whether it was in my private diary on my nightstand, or one of the dozens of notebooks I keep for short stories, or even here on my personal computer where I can pound out as many random ideas as I want... writing has always been my sanctuary when things get tough. I can better express my thoughts when I put pen to paper (or type to a screen) because there's no pressure to communicate instantaneously.

For me, writing in any form is almost like a meditative experience: it gives me the time and the space I need to fully figure out what is going on in my own head. And when you're overwhelmed with work, more work, self-employed work, a grieving family, and then some extra work just for good measure, it's important to have those moments of introspection and self-care. Though brief they may be.

I would also argue that's why it's so necessary to indulge in some creative outlets as well. Hence why I write short and long stories; mostly high fantasy, sometimes realistic - and all of them extremely rough (at least I think). And though I work hard to polish them as much as I can, I honestly doubt that their quality will ever reach the upper echelons of all the great novelists and poets. But, honestly, that's not why I write in the first place.

I have no illusions of fame or fortune when it comes to storytelling. I don't work hard at it because I want to make lots of money and have lots of fans. Right now most people don't know me from Adam, and I'm very much okay with that. I write for the sake of passion and pleasure, and nothing more.

As someone who's already turned one hobby into a budding career, I know first hand how stressful it can be to try earning a living from it. Believe me, once you bring money into the equation (of any passion!), it will inevitably complicate things. Money takes away some of the spark from something you love with all your heart. That's why I promised myself, years ago - when stared this insane experiment of building a new business - that I cannot and must not turn my writing into a paid career.

Now, does that mean I would turn away any financial support if it were offered? Of course not. In fact, I'd be extremely flattered. I honestly don't know if I'm actually any good at writing, so any kind of support - monetary, emotional, or otherwise - to me, means I'm actually doing something right.

But, unlike my stitch-craft, I promised myself I wouldn't actively pursue an income with my writing (even if it turns out I'm actually pretty good at it). This one creative outlet, that remains completely untainted by money, is one of the few things I still have right now that brings me absolute joy. Writing helps me to kick out all of the "monkeys" in of my attic. It makes me feel like I'm still me, and that is a beautiful thing; that alone is worth so much more to me right now, than all the money in the world.

- Nov. 12, 2023