This is a little more personal of a blogpost but maybe some of you have experienced or will experience something akin to it. I don't know if it's part of getting older or the things life chucks at me lately but I'm painfully aware of my own mortality right now. There are only a few more decades, really, to be here and to do the things I want to do (if I get to live to a ripe, old age.) And when I look back at the past (and what a whirlwind that seems) I find more regret than joy. I hope this is a passing phase.
The realization that I won't get to do everything I'd like to do, that I probably won't hit certain benchmarks that society sets, and that I might see people dear to me pass on before I do - well, it's sobering.
When I think of writing, if I'm being optimistic, say I get a publishing deal within the next year - how many of my story ideas will actual come to fruition? What will never see the light of day? And if I publish, say, five to ten years from now, the number of possible stories to share dwindles more. I sat down with my story list recently and mercilessly struck out story ideas I didn't care passionately about. It relieved a lot of pressure. Then I thought good and hard about the ones I did feel passionate about, out of those which ones did I think others might enjoy most? Which were more original in their spin than others? Did I want to get stuck writing that series or do more of my standalone ideas?
Because there is that other factor too: life outside of writing. I'm analyzing my goals and dreams there as well. The day to day moments spent with the people I love have more meaning and I'd rather build up memories than possessions. I know of one event that will completely change my life and that is the loss of my husband. He has a life-threatening disease which has already begun to deteriorate his body. If you're reading this blogpost in the morning, I'm at the hospital waiting for him to get out surgery. I know he will go before I do, someday; I've known it since the day we married. I suppose one might get very depressed about it, and to be truthful, I have at times. On the other hand, possessing this knowledge also makes me appreciate him more and the time we spend together.
Health issues have struck me down frequently in the last year, bringing forward the realization that I'm not immortal and that in the back of my mind, in my youth, I did have that attitude. I'm not as quick as I used to be. My body is changing and I've needed to re-evaluate my lifestyle to accommodate the changes.
At times I feel more awake than ever before. Like the past was some kind of blurry dream (with the occasional nightmare.) Knowing one's mortality is both frightening and empowering. What we are, what we have, and what we leave behind, it's something to think long and deeply about.
Have you experienced the mantle of mortality in regards to your writing? What changes did you make because of it?
The realization that I won't get to do everything I'd like to do, that I probably won't hit certain benchmarks that society sets, and that I might see people dear to me pass on before I do - well, it's sobering.
When I think of writing, if I'm being optimistic, say I get a publishing deal within the next year - how many of my story ideas will actual come to fruition? What will never see the light of day? And if I publish, say, five to ten years from now, the number of possible stories to share dwindles more. I sat down with my story list recently and mercilessly struck out story ideas I didn't care passionately about. It relieved a lot of pressure. Then I thought good and hard about the ones I did feel passionate about, out of those which ones did I think others might enjoy most? Which were more original in their spin than others? Did I want to get stuck writing that series or do more of my standalone ideas?
Because there is that other factor too: life outside of writing. I'm analyzing my goals and dreams there as well. The day to day moments spent with the people I love have more meaning and I'd rather build up memories than possessions. I know of one event that will completely change my life and that is the loss of my husband. He has a life-threatening disease which has already begun to deteriorate his body. If you're reading this blogpost in the morning, I'm at the hospital waiting for him to get out surgery. I know he will go before I do, someday; I've known it since the day we married. I suppose one might get very depressed about it, and to be truthful, I have at times. On the other hand, possessing this knowledge also makes me appreciate him more and the time we spend together.
Health issues have struck me down frequently in the last year, bringing forward the realization that I'm not immortal and that in the back of my mind, in my youth, I did have that attitude. I'm not as quick as I used to be. My body is changing and I've needed to re-evaluate my lifestyle to accommodate the changes.
At times I feel more awake than ever before. Like the past was some kind of blurry dream (with the occasional nightmare.) Knowing one's mortality is both frightening and empowering. What we are, what we have, and what we leave behind, it's something to think long and deeply about.
Have you experienced the mantle of mortality in regards to your writing? What changes did you make because of it?