Liberty (... ?)

One of the more hideously seductive things about being unpublished is the freedom to stay that way.  I'm not particularly easily discouraged, and it doesn't come up much, but every now and then, I am tempted by my advanced age, my perfectly good full time job, the sheer volume of research, work, and the fear involved in creating a novel ... into thoughts of how easy it would be to simply say to myself, "Thank you, dealer, I will stand."

This sort of feeling might seem the function of discouragement or depression, but sometimes it's just a simple result of exhaustion.  For me, today:  there's just no excuse for it.  That doesn't mean it isn't a bit of a guilty car-wreck sort of a fascination to indulge it a little.  Sometimes, indulgence precedes inspiration.  It's not uncommon for me to somewhat comically despair that Ax will never truly be finished, never be agented, never sell and exist as an artifact I can hold in my hands, the proof of my publication.  And then there'll be a meeting of the SBC, or a Conference, and the motivation to work is reinvigorated.

It may not be uncommon, but - it isn't really all that common, either.  This may be because I enjoy all the above-mentioned privileges, insulating me from the consequences of failure.  It may be because I'm Just That Confident.  Or both.  At the end of the day, faith tends to win out over fear, with me.

And so this weekend (I've made it an extra-long one, taking tomorrow off), I will celebrate my freedom by using a couple or three days to make with the butterknife and try to really see the work.  Objectivity may not be possible, but I certainly have little trouble using the blade, even if I may not be the best person to sharpen it.  Hey, without readers to help, THAT at least is one excuse I don't depend on, to take a pass on doing the various jobs.

And, of course, there is this ...

... if I can actually succeed, it'll give me an excuse to waggle my eyebrows that I did it pretty much on my own.



So off I go, to finish today's housecleaning.  To change the sheets and get my bath, and get some sleep.

And spend this weekend with the butterknife.