The funny thing is, I'm not on deadline.
I've been trying to dust off my writing skills and give a good attempt at the story I've been trying to write. And all I have to show for what I have accomplished in the past hour is a blinking cursor and a smattering of nonsensical words.
Here's what I'm learning about a creative life: it requires more discipline than what people expect.
When I was in high school, (the good ol' days when I used to play the piano really well. Oh, Dear Talent, how I miss thee!) I had no problem sitting at the piano, going over difficult passages numerous times just to perfect the music piece. Granted, some of those ultra-disciplined practices had to do with the limited time I had to learn a piece ("Why yes, Giles, I can definitely learn this difficult piano accompaniment for the concert tomorrow...").
I'll admit, practicing piano wasn't always a joy. It was a loathsome chore, especially during the earlier years of piano lessons. I couldn't understand how hours of Hanon exercises could help me play the breathtaking classical piano pieces I loved. But if it weren't for those years of disciplined playing, I would not be able to love the piano the way that I do now.
I used to love writing as much as I used to love playing piano. I am a extremely rusty in writing, and it doesn't come as easily as the piano. I'm not as disciplined in this avenue of expression, and therefore, I am apt to swiftly succumb to distractions.
I suppose discipline is the same with a lot of things in life, creative or otherwise. Anything of true worth requires work. However, in my experience, discipline in the things we delight in rarely ever seem like work.
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