First of all, guys, I have some comics featured on The Toast today! I’m very excited and thoroughly delighted. Indeed, happy enough to rhyme just then. You’re welcome.
(N.B. Please look at the comics! And share them! And comment on them! If you are inclined to any such activity.)
Second (since we’re listing numerically here), some people I know have recently been talking about their exits from creative life, or their difficulty getting work done, or their overall frustration with their efforts. And…my god, when I was thinking about this earlier, I felt I had many ideas to contribute. For one thing, my gratitude that writing is an art that can be practiced and developed in private – as opposed to, say, theatre, which nearly always requires some level of welcome (from casting directors, other actors, teachers, etc.) before you can begin.
But now that sounds outlandishly smug to me. When what I really mean is: yes, this is hard. There are other choices for your heart to make, and they are hard too. You can make choices in spite of your heart, and that is hard. Your heart changes. It is all painful. I also feel a lot of pain, and I’m sorry for yours, whatever you’re feeling.
I guess the only thing I really had to add was that gratitude alluded to above. I do not get to spend all day every day writing, drawing, reading, doing whatever I want. But I spend some time on those things every day, and full days too. And I am lucky to do it. Lucky to have the time, lucky to have whatever mean mental space I can carve out. Lucky to have fingers to work to the bone.