Saturday, April 27, 2013


Whether you choose to pursue it professionally or you keep it close to your chest, you probably have a Favorite Thing. Doing it makes you happy. Or, at the very least, basking in the finished product makes you happy enough to endure the sweaty work that doing it is comprised of. Maybe that sweaty work is actually really, really awful. So awful that you constantly consider shucking the Favorite Thing for realsies. After all, if the Favorite Thing is 99% terrible, awful, miserable, inside-skin-itchy work, and the only part you enjoy is that teensy little sliver of satisfaction between projects, is it really worth it?

You've got other Things to do, too. Maybe a bunch of Things that are comprised of Stuff and Moments and are typically pretty nice. Other Things are not as hard. Other Things have more immediate rewards, or are more easily shared and appreciated with family and friendpals. It is, at times, all too easy to replace Favorite Thing with Things. Sometimes, it feels stupid not to.

Why make yourself miserable, with that thankless, long-haul of a Favorite Thing? Take a break. Try Things. Go to Places. Hang out with People. Stretch your brain-limbs and inhale fresh thought-air and smell whatever kind of flowers are lying around.

You never know: Things may become your new Favorite Thing. You may never touch Favorite Thing again. Assuming you are some sort of mutant with a very differently wired soul than the rest of humanity.

Favorite Thing will not be ignored for long. It will pester. It will haunt. It will growl and groan and waste away, but never die. And the longer you leave it salivating in the corner, the longer it will take to nurse it back to health. And as you are using the exposed ribs of Favorite Thing to play a mad xylophone solo, using guilt as your xylophone sticks, you may very well grow to resent Favorite Thing all over again for being such a dramatic oinker.

But there is a reason it is the Favorite Thing. Perhaps without realizing it, you have already decided that the sliver of good that you receive in exchange for the boulder of effort is more than worth it.


Storytelling is my passion, and writing is the medium I feel best equipped to explore it with. But is verbing hard sometimes. It is brutal. Storytelling is the art, writing is the work. There have been times when I sat staring at that verbing little blinky line on a blank page for hours, determined not to leave until I've managed something worthwhile.

It sucks when the words don't come. It sucks when you look at yesterday's words, and they're stupid. Derp derp derp weak analogy, derpy derp derp. Noun.

But after what seems like three lifetimes of work, I sometimes have a neat story to share. And seeing someone else get as excited as I am about something that was brewed up in my head is worth every wasted hour and every tension migraine.

If I go too long without writing, I get antsy. Moody. Melancholic. It's as if a piece of me turns into a wisp, lost in a fog, and it is maddening. This is not because I LURVE the act of writing. Sometimes, I kind of hate it. But if I allow myself to be lazy, I feel the knives of my internal voice growing dull. And that is not acceptable.

I don't write because I have to. I could allow myself to develop a chubby brain that only showers when it's going out to Walmart or somewhere equally fancy. But I choose not to.

Because writing is my Favorite Thing.

1 comment:

  1. I so hear you on the pain of doing and NOT doing Favorite Thing. No additional elaboration required. You covered it!