Glædelig Påske (Happy Easter)! –as the Danes say. I live with a lovely family who herald partly from Denmark, and I have learned a lot about the country, its people and their traditions. It’s great fun being an “honorary Dane.” And yes, the Danish heritage is making its way into my novel!
Of course, the day of Easter came and went last week, but since the season lasts fifty days, I decided to wish you a Happy Easter, anyhow. Having spent the holiday happily with my adoptive family, I then spent Monday until yesterday with my mother, who is recovering from another surgery. It pains me that she has needed the intervention of the medical system, but I’m grateful that the resources have been available to her, and that hopefully this will be the last surgical intervention needed. It was good to be with her (not to mention, the cat), and it’s always difficult to leave.
My writing has, indeed, fallen a bit by the wayside. I don’t have any excuses for this (since they’re “like @$$holes, everyone has them and they usually stink,” it wouldn’t be worth coming up with one). The fact is, I need to set more of a schedule, and I need to keep it. I need to work.
One’s life’s work is often referred to as a calling. This is held especially true for those who follow paths into religious sectors, which I find interesting. To become ordained, one must receive a divine call. Why don’t we say this about other careers? The majority of first-world society seems to be content to toil away at unhappy, unfulfilling jobs, rather than working at what they love.
Writing is certainly a labor of love. Lately for me, it hasn’t felt very loving, though. I’ve felt as though putting pen to paper is an act of struggle. Against what? My other callings, perhaps. I have often felt myself torn in several directions, between writing and other types of creation (drawing, crafting, photography, et al). I keep myself busy with these various endeavors, but I break up my time to the point of not completing much (there’s that incompletion problem again, rearing its ugly head). Often I feel slow in progressing toward anything. And I spend time berating myself for not accomplishing much — which of course, accomplishes nothing.
Because writing is as much of a calling as I’ve ever had, I’m compelled to keep trying. It is, after all, the creation that I’ve most consistently worked on. So I have to attempt to properly set that schedule, build the habit, remember to love the work.
So, I ask you: what’s your calling? What’s your labor of love? How do you grow in your calling? What tools are in your toolbox that help you push through when inertia sluggishly strikes? I look forward to finding out.
Happy writing, and Happy Easter!