Weighing My Interests
Filed Under: My Writing, Photography, Writing Process
I had a very long week at work this past week, so most of my weekend was devoted to very low energy pursuits. I read a little, watched some TV, saw Quantum of Solace (okay, but not as good as the last one) and played the demo of Left 4 Dead, Valve’s new Zombie Survival Co-op game (fantastic so far and I can’t wait to play the full game). More than half of today was devoted to making a prop for tomorrow’s Roundbottom photo, and then shooting. The newest post should be pretty amusing, even if it’s not the most meaty thing I’ve written lately. After this, I’m taking a 2 week hiatus to attempt to build up some material and think about what I really want out of this project.
Lately, I have felt like I have to make a choice between writing and photography–that I only have enough time outside of my job to really master one of these two pursuits. It’s probably not true, but I know that I split my energies among too many things. I was feeling okay about maybe dipping my toe back into the writing waters, especially after seeing a great review of the Seeds of Change anthologies. And then I saw some comments on a site about some of my work that was pretty brutal, and I lost what little motivation I had.
Until I can find a reason to write that can stand up to the whims of Joe Random Internet Commenter, then it’s best that I not do any writing. This is one of the things I like about photography. If people don’t like your photography, they rarely say anything. If they like it, they do. But when it comes to fiction, people seem to be compelled to tell you at length just how much you suck. It probably has something to do with the time investment it takes to consume a story vs look at a photo.
Sometimes I think that my photography would get better if it was critiqued to the same degree my fiction has been, but then, negative comments–comments of any sort–don’t really count as critique. And maybe some of the fun of photography would be drained if I took it that seriously?
Earlier, I went for a photowalk down by the river to clear my head and just be in the now. Lately, I am too busy thinking and the nature of my work doesn’t allow for me to get into the now very often. By “the now” I mean, the groove, the flow, whatever. A state of being and doing, where time is meaningless and the ego slips beneath the surface. I took a few decent shots, and stumbled upon a bunch of beaver chews. I walked up and down the area looking for the dam, but I couldn’t find it. I will probably go back the next time I want to take a walk and see if I can spot it. It was very nice.
When I think about how pleasurable it is to go on a photowalk or take pictures in general, I wonder why I can’t have that much fun writing anymore. At some point, it stopped being about fun and started being something else. God knows I value my leisure time like it’s made out of diamonds since my Dad died, so maybe I take writing so seriously because I don’t want to waste anyone’s leisure time with crap writing. Ahem. Which I suppose I am kind of doing right now. I command you not to read this unless you are stealing time from your employer!
There, I feel better.
One day I am going to look back at all the time I have spent agonizing over all this and I’m going to be angry at myself for not just shutting up and doing something. I used to tell people that the key to writing was to “shut up and write” but I’ve gotten awful at following that particular advice. But not tonight–I’m too tired to be angry with myself about it.
