Discipline and passion
There's all kinds of quotes about 10% of something being love and/or talent and 110% being work. It gets old after a while. But I'm beginning to see how true it is. I think it's the main factor separating interests from passions.
I like science, but when I took science classes last semester, I realized I didn't like it enough to deal with the work. I just wanted to learn about genetics and chemistry, not measure things, memorize words, do tedious math and recite cellular processes. I did it, but I hated it quickly.
The same could be said for journalism. I would think up a new story, get excited, and send out e-mails or visit offices to set up interviews. Then I'd do the interviews. As the quotes piled up and the followups continued, my energy flagged. Then, I had to organize everything and cram it into an 800-word story by a deadline. I hated it. It was too much work for something that gave me little reward.
Piano, violin, and chorus have suffered the same fate. They are fun, but I'm just not passionate to do the work.
But with creative writing, meditation, and philosophy, I can do the work. Sometimes I enjoy the work--the 10%--but most of the time, it's still work, and is dull, tedious, difficult, and painful. Nevertheless, I do it anyway.
The more I pursue these passions, the more valuable discipline becomes. "Nothing gold can stay," and the same is true here. It's esy to be excited about something as a beginner: it's new, exciting, open to possibilities, new experiences abounding. That fades eventually.
I hit stints where passions look utterly unappealing. I don't get joy and I don't feel love. I feel no excitement and gain no satisfaction. But I tighten my belt, spit on my hands, and get to work anyway. This happened a few times while writing the novel, especially when sleep looked far more appealing.
Then something comes along--a completed draft, a meditative breakthrough, a eureka moment re ading a philosophy paper--and I remember why I love these things. The work vanishes. I get a whiff of pure vitality and dig deeper like a dog caught up in a scent. It's exciting, wonderful. I feel confident and blessed with meaning.
Without discipline passions would wilt, I think.
I like science, but when I took science classes last semester, I realized I didn't like it enough to deal with the work. I just wanted to learn about genetics and chemistry, not measure things, memorize words, do tedious math and recite cellular processes. I did it, but I hated it quickly.
The same could be said for journalism. I would think up a new story, get excited, and send out e-mails or visit offices to set up interviews. Then I'd do the interviews. As the quotes piled up and the followups continued, my energy flagged. Then, I had to organize everything and cram it into an 800-word story by a deadline. I hated it. It was too much work for something that gave me little reward.
Piano, violin, and chorus have suffered the same fate. They are fun, but I'm just not passionate to do the work.
But with creative writing, meditation, and philosophy, I can do the work. Sometimes I enjoy the work--the 10%--but most of the time, it's still work, and is dull, tedious, difficult, and painful. Nevertheless, I do it anyway.
The more I pursue these passions, the more valuable discipline becomes. "Nothing gold can stay," and the same is true here. It's esy to be excited about something as a beginner: it's new, exciting, open to possibilities, new experiences abounding. That fades eventually.
I hit stints where passions look utterly unappealing. I don't get joy and I don't feel love. I feel no excitement and gain no satisfaction. But I tighten my belt, spit on my hands, and get to work anyway. This happened a few times while writing the novel, especially when sleep looked far more appealing.
Then something comes along--a completed draft, a meditative breakthrough, a eureka moment re ading a philosophy paper--and I remember why I love these things. The work vanishes. I get a whiff of pure vitality and dig deeper like a dog caught up in a scent. It's exciting, wonderful. I feel confident and blessed with meaning.
Without discipline passions would wilt, I think.