The motivational struggles of authorship as a second job

Is it time for “wah, wah, wah, this is hard”? I’ve only been at this a short time and the tales are told of legendary authors who labored for many years to get their first works published.

But there is, nonetheless, an interesting, practical drawback of this journey to discuss. And this early point seems as good as any. Not loss of hope. Not loss of self confidence. Not loss of focus.

Fatigue.

Day jobs: let’s face it, most of us have them. Families. Social lives. Cars that need maintaining, grass that demands cutting, dogs that expect to be walked. The dramas and comedies of real life mustn’t be neglected.  They’re why we’re here.

Into all of that we squeeze writing, re-writing, researching, learning, pitching, re-thinking, planning, blogging, social-networking in “the community,” and reading with a new, purposeful urgency into the few hours we can find in the evenings and weekends. Everytime we close a chapter or find a new inspiration or discover a new resource or get word of a new follower, we think it’s another step forward and it feels great. Task accomplished, mission progressed. Time efficiently spent.

Short of that, a day can feel lost from our dream mission.

And yet sometimes I feel like just cracking a beer and watching the Bulls-Nets game, or a rerun of The Big Bang Theory, one I’ve, pathetically, seen three times already.

Do I fight through it? Do I give in?

How do people do it? Because, naive that I may be, I know there are other unpublished authors out there who have the self-discipline to work this second job as if there is a time clock and a cranky supervisor with a drawerful of signed applications. Beyond that, I know there are non-authors out there laboring through second jobs where there really are time clocks and cranky supervisors.

I can’t speak for them. I can only give you my experience and I hope someone out there is reading this and, wow, I can’t believe the Bulls just left Joe Johnson so wide open for that shot. Play some D, guys. Crissake.

Seriously, people: how do you do it? Help me out here.

And here’s my more immediate problem, which you cannot help me with. There’s no beer left in the fridge and I’m too bushed to out and get some.

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