Tuesday, 29 May 2012
For me, the greatest block to my personal success, is the loss of momentum.
Sure I am trying to be the happy househusband; with all the various duties that entails - including two children under six and a wife who does not drive a car. Without a doubt, they get in the way of what I am trying to achieve with my budding writing career. However, I can never really use them as an excuse because I know that line of thinking is only a surrender to procrastination and bouts of C.B.F Syndrome ( a debilitating condition I suffered through most of my teenage years and extended into my tweens to some extent.)
What is this, C.B.F Syndrome?
You know exactly what I mean - so don't kid yourself.
It affects most of us and can only be eradicated through restorative boosts of sheer willpower and the overwhelming urge to fulfill and succeed in all of your desires.
That said, I LOVE writing stories. Developing characters and engrossing myself in the creation of entire universes is where I am most happy. When I get going, I surge forward; I reach milestones and I feel good about the future. I have - momentum.
However so many factors, which I have convinced myself are merely functions of the universe testing my resolve, become blocks to my momentum.
I happened upon an analogy to this recently while I was driving. A large truck, eighteen wheels and as many tons, was thundering along the road towards the sudden rise of a hill. That truck, that speed, that weight - it has good momentum, an easy climb. Then some numb-nut decides to change lanes into the path of the hurtling mass. Silly yes, but not illegal and a considerate action for the old rusted four cylinder that would inevitably slow those in the fast lane while on their ascent.
I could hear and even feel the truck's engine howl as the driver rapidly changed gears down to compensate for the sudden block to his clear path. All that lovely momentum suddenly lost and the cursing driver was forced back to a low gear and now faced a slow tedious crawl up the hill.
Ironically, all that halts my momentum are those whom I love so much. It is their futures that ultimately drive my will to achieve. But the load I carry and the very momentum that I require for the task is being blocked, albeit unintentionally, by the very ones whom I am doing this for. Such a delicate and frustrating paradox.
So I curse and swear inside the cabin of my truck, and shift down several gears to once again crawl and plod up that hill. But hey, it's sure looks good up there, on top of the hill. Hell, even half way up I figure the view is going to be breathtaking. I find a kind of solace in that hope; in that dream. It grants me fortitude and endurance. It affords me courage.
I figure the bravest thing about being a father and a good husband is to do what you have to do without anyone needing to know. You don't seek validation or tally scores to be kept for future reference. They don't need to know. Is that not why we love?
Of course — you now know; but I'm sure that these words are just an expression of what you have already felt. Besides that, ranting to you my friend, doesn't count.
So I will boldly continue my plod, head down, always rethinking and reworking strategies that will enable me to go over, under, around and even straight through any blocks that threaten to slow my momentum. Because if there's one thing I've learned about momentum, if you've got enough of it, there ain't no stopping it.