Except for the frustration that, for me, always accompanies software updates and social media profile editing, I’m having a pretty good day. While I was cussing at the Facebook formatters (and then the LinkedIn formatters), doing my best to insert a photo where one was not – for some bizarre reason – allowed, I kept wondering if/when I would get to my REAL work of the day.
And, of course, my real work is writing. After all, I’m a writer. I’m not just talking about this web entry. I’m talking about extending my presumed contribution to the body of creation that all artists are here to make. By the way, YOU are an artist whether you admit it or not.
Some of us may have more obvious job descriptions than others, but we are all here to create and to contribute. My chosen modality is the written word. While I enjoy crafting a relevant blog post, a personal letter in longhand, or a poignant entry in my morning pages, I value the progress on my latest fiction project the most.
The value as perceived by my readers is, to a certain degree, outside my control. I can only do my best. But THAT – the “doing of my best” – is a broad landscape indeed within which to practice and perfect. If there really is a fundamental imperative in life … a commandment above all others, it is to get better and better. At whatever it is you’re doing. At whatever it is right in front of you. Parenting. Breathing. Waiting. Healing. Dancing. Listening.
And for me … writing. Time to get to it.