Friday, September 25, 2009
Blog Chain On A Friday
Michelle has kicked off the chain this time around with a rather interesting question:
Do you choose what you do because of who you are? Or is who you are determined by what you do?
Sandra put up her response yesterday, and Kat will be following me tomorrow.
There have been lots of different perspectives on this topic from the members of the chain, but my immediate response when I first read it was....hmmmm...well, I don't know. Please bear with me while I work through it.
Part of me hopes that I'm not determined by what I do, because my day job is being a computer geek in a network admin shop. Without telling everyone the long boring details, I basically fell into it because the pay was good and I found I could do it without too much trouble. As the years go by however, I have come to realize that it's not really what I would choose to do if I had all the choices in the world available to me.
Writing is something I have sporadically done throughout my life, albeit with huge gaps between each moment when I was writing. I enjoy it and hate it all at the same time. Breathe, fellow writers....Breathe. I know I'm speaking heresy, but let me explain. Yes, I hate it sometimes. It's not the writing that I dislike. What I really don't like is my own inability to write as effectively as I wish I could. In the end though, I realize that I choose to write because it is something I enjoy, particularly when all the planets are aligned and the words are flowing like sweet honey.
In contrast to so many of you, I do not feel the "bug" to constantly write - or maybe I've ignored it for so long that the muse no longer tries to yell at me. Either way, I don't feel a deep empty loss if I'm not writing. I honestly don't know what that means, and sometimes I worry about it.
I guess the final answer is that I choose what I do - which right now is writing - and so I'm a writer because of that choice. I'm envious of those of you who are chosen, for whom the bug is an innate part of your soul. And perhaps with training on my part, I'll learn to listen to my muse and stop closing my ears to his rantings. Who knows. Stranger things have happened.