Monthly Archives: August 2014

Work

Stephen Pressfield calls it resistance.

It’s been a while since I read his book, WAR OF ART, but I think he also refers to it as evil.

His view: Resistance is the thing which prevents  a person from creating art.  It shows up when a person sits down to write (or anything a person desires to create or change).  For me, resistance looks like the need to do dishes, yard work, TV, life crisis, email, sleep, things for or with my kids, etc. — all legit seeming excuses which prevent me from fulfilling my soul’s desires to create.

Five a.m.  I am resisting the urge to get up.

As I lay here,  I think about Pressfield’s feeling that resistance is evil.  Then I recall all the people I know who have said that they “love” writing or even worse the people who say writing is “easy.”

I used to love writing, too.  That was when I had no discernment, before I realized that most of what I write is crap.  I also thought it was easy — when journal entries of my day’s thoughts were all that I wrote. I never allowed anyone to read what I wrote.  First clue.

Yesterday, I received an analysis of my current entry into the Bluecat Screenwriting Contest.  For the first time that I can recall, it was generally very positive.  The analysis is divided into two parts: what the reader liked and what the reader thinks needs work.  The last line of the analysis ended, in part, “you’re a wonderful writer…”

Still laying in bed, the time now 5:09, I think about that for a long while.  The script I entered had not only been through several complete page 1 rewrites, but required nearly 7 years to ruminate.

7 years.

Yes, I worked on other things in between, but, seven years before it was worthy of positive analysis and, though this year I also received some relatively positive feedback from the Academy Nicholl Fellowship, I still was not good enough to place as a quarter finalist  in that contest, either.

Shit.

This isn’t resistance I feel as I pull myself out of bed.  It’s the knowledge of how hard it is (for me) to be a good writer, let alone a winning writer.

Yet, here I am.

This is this a.m.’s warm up.

Wish me luck.