There are times when rejection feels like the status quo and the idea of success is terrifying.
I’ve been an aspiring (syn. struggling) author for many years now. I have figured out how to properly balance artistic desire with practical awareness, and now I’m able to eat without worrying that my meal will take away from buying gas. It’s been a hard-won battle, and one I’m glad is over.
The issue now is complacency.
I now have to fight against the comfortable, against sinking too deep into the pillows of my bed for fear that I will never rise again. Instead of fighting to type words onto the screen, I contemplate my upcoming Netflix marathon. Rather than worry about my upcoming audition, I sigh with relief that I can cover my student loan payments.
It’s a sweet, gentle lull, and if I’m not wary, it will suck me below the tide. Soon enough, ten years will have passed, and my novel will sit forgotten in my hard-drive and my theatre resume will wilt from disuse. And, the most terrifying thing I can imagine, is looking back and wondering “Where did all that time go?”
It’s good to count pennies and have Ramen nights once in a while. It reminds me of where I’m from. It reminds me of where I’m going.