Every Minute of Every Hour of Every Day

Part of me wants to be just a writer, always writing or editing or reading or reading about writing or watching movies to get fresh ideas or sending query letters to agents or attending writer’s conferences or …

And then, in walked Reality. Capital R. Little things, you know, like the mortgage and the bills and the job and the adult responsibilities. The necessary things.

(As writers who read this, you believe you understand completely based upon the tone and the writing of the first two paragraphs. First paragraph: rushed, exuberant, no periods. A sense of breathless joy. Second paragraph: Short sentences. A tone of sarcasm.)

I think back to being a single man, a poet, in Boston in the 1990’s. There was the “freedom” of going to poetry readings just about every night. There were countless live, hands-on real people, social networking among living and breathing human beings. There was also a room with a shared bathroom and kitchen with all utilities (except for phone) for $75/week and a dead-end job in a music store. (Does anyone remember those?)

Currently I am a married homeowner, living in a hundred year old Victorian house. I own my car. I have a full-time job and a 401k. There is a lever of comfort that has been earned through many years. There is not as much time to gallivant or just “hang out” with other writers to be cool. My needs as a writer have changed.

I need to continue to develop my craft (now that I’ve learned what a Craft is) and get feedback from people I might not ever have met personally but who understand what being a writer is. I need random comments rather than sweet commentary.

Some twenty years removed from an artsy type existence, I am still a writer every minute of every hour of every day. I just seem to have become more focused on what that really means.

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5 Comments

  1. cath c said,

    June 7, 2011 at 8:16 pm

    preaching to the choir, tikiman. i remember those days! you me and jg in his little room in that shared bathroom 4th floor walkup on comm ave, discussing lofty ideas, laughing a lot and critiquing each other’s stuff line by line, and listening to mozart’s requiem – the christopher hogwood on period instruments.

    Like

    • tikiman1962 said,

      June 7, 2011 at 8:27 pm

      I wouldn’t have remembered that Hogwood album if you had put a gun to my head. It’s amazing the details that get lost in the years. And yet, it WAS the details that made up all those years.

      Like

  2. June 7, 2011 at 8:53 pm

    We should swap email addresses so we can trade work. I too am looking for feedback on my writing. I got into Iowa University’s creative nonfiction program, but I had to defer until next year, so I can save money.

    Let me know if you want to critique each other’s stuff. I think it could be helpful.

    Like

    • tikiman1962 said,

      June 7, 2011 at 8:58 pm

      We are friends on Facebook.
      My email is right there, at your full disposal.
      I respect writers.
      I think writers from Kansas are especially cool.
      And writers who are members of KWA get my undivided attention.

      Like

  3. cath c said,

    June 8, 2011 at 6:03 am

    trust me, tikiman, there is plenty i do not recall, but that hogwood was sublime.

    Like


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