I cannot escape the feeling that this blog is being neglected. I seem to just write one piece and then leave it for along time before something moves me enough to write again. This system worked when I would find the motivation to write a piece every week or two. Lately this has not been the case, as you can no doubt see when you examine how far apart the last few entries have been.
There is not much I can offer in terms of justifications or excuses for this lapse in output. I realize that I should be writing as much as possible to keep my command of English up to a level that does not resemble the brainless rantings of a newly literate chimpanzee. I realize that a strong body of writing can only help if I ever want to make a living and a life out of it. Believe me, it is something that I so wish to do. My time at New Statesman was a taste for me of something I would like to explore.
With that in mind, it appears as though my lack of effort is not forgivable. Which is true. It is not forgivable. We, as children, are told to follow our dreams. Follow our hearts. Do not give up. The problem is the sobering, looming specter of reality. I do not want to delve too far into the fantasy versus reality question, or even the current economic and political climate I find myself in because I have touched on both issues before. They are, however, factors in what has become a very demotivating period in my life.
There are only so many times one can conceivably knock at a door without answer before turning away and trying another door. The sad reality is that the door I am standing in front of is that of writing. Journalism. Political journalism to be specific. American political journalism to be even more specific still. I would also relish the chance to write at length about religion. Or American history.
In fact, I am in the middle of trying to broaden my own knowledge of my favorite country's history. I am currently reading 'Setting the World Ablaze: Washington, Adams, Jefferson and the American Revolution' by John E. Ferling. It is a very interesting look at America's first three Presidents as each of their lives built towards the War of Independence. I am not yet halfway through this book but I am thoroughly enjoying it. While I have already read books on Jefferson (and as such some of the parts about him are familiar), the stories of Washington and Adams are equally fascinating. I hope that I can continue my education on the founding of America in the coming months and years.
I appear to have drifted from the point slightly. Going back to the door metaphor; the door of political journalism creaked open in November of last year (during my aforementioned stint at NS). That said, it felt like as soon as the door had opened slightly it slammed shut once again. Once again I am on the outside knocking.
I have been knocking at this door for months with no answer. I have even been knocking at neighboring doors too (non-political journalism, PR, communications etc.) with much the same response. After a while, the idea of following one's heart seems like a hollow one indeed. I am, at my core, a rationalist and a realist. Maybe this door is not something I am to walk through.
It is tough, because I see people that I admire at different stages of their journalistic career (people like Laurie Penny, Mehdi Hasan and Christopher Hitchens to name three) and they are doing what I want to be doing. I am under no delusion that I can walk onto a publication and immediately be at their level, but it is disheartening that I cannot even get onto that bottom rung (I am mixing metaphors here, for which I apologize) in order to work my way up.
After a while, the motivation to keep trying begins to wane. I must admit that driving forty minutes to the Job Centre every Monday is also a factor in the depletion of my psychological reserves. The black cloud above my head is telling me to leave the doorstep and try another house. It is a shame because the house looks so fulfilling from my view.
Despite all this, I will endeavor to write more regularly. I shall try to force myself to do so. I just hope that the entries I force myself to do are not obvious due to their awfulness.
Time, as they say, marches on...
There is not much I can offer in terms of justifications or excuses for this lapse in output. I realize that I should be writing as much as possible to keep my command of English up to a level that does not resemble the brainless rantings of a newly literate chimpanzee. I realize that a strong body of writing can only help if I ever want to make a living and a life out of it. Believe me, it is something that I so wish to do. My time at New Statesman was a taste for me of something I would like to explore.
With that in mind, it appears as though my lack of effort is not forgivable. Which is true. It is not forgivable. We, as children, are told to follow our dreams. Follow our hearts. Do not give up. The problem is the sobering, looming specter of reality. I do not want to delve too far into the fantasy versus reality question, or even the current economic and political climate I find myself in because I have touched on both issues before. They are, however, factors in what has become a very demotivating period in my life.
There are only so many times one can conceivably knock at a door without answer before turning away and trying another door. The sad reality is that the door I am standing in front of is that of writing. Journalism. Political journalism to be specific. American political journalism to be even more specific still. I would also relish the chance to write at length about religion. Or American history.
In fact, I am in the middle of trying to broaden my own knowledge of my favorite country's history. I am currently reading 'Setting the World Ablaze: Washington, Adams, Jefferson and the American Revolution' by John E. Ferling. It is a very interesting look at America's first three Presidents as each of their lives built towards the War of Independence. I am not yet halfway through this book but I am thoroughly enjoying it. While I have already read books on Jefferson (and as such some of the parts about him are familiar), the stories of Washington and Adams are equally fascinating. I hope that I can continue my education on the founding of America in the coming months and years.
I appear to have drifted from the point slightly. Going back to the door metaphor; the door of political journalism creaked open in November of last year (during my aforementioned stint at NS). That said, it felt like as soon as the door had opened slightly it slammed shut once again. Once again I am on the outside knocking.
I have been knocking at this door for months with no answer. I have even been knocking at neighboring doors too (non-political journalism, PR, communications etc.) with much the same response. After a while, the idea of following one's heart seems like a hollow one indeed. I am, at my core, a rationalist and a realist. Maybe this door is not something I am to walk through.
It is tough, because I see people that I admire at different stages of their journalistic career (people like Laurie Penny, Mehdi Hasan and Christopher Hitchens to name three) and they are doing what I want to be doing. I am under no delusion that I can walk onto a publication and immediately be at their level, but it is disheartening that I cannot even get onto that bottom rung (I am mixing metaphors here, for which I apologize) in order to work my way up.
After a while, the motivation to keep trying begins to wane. I must admit that driving forty minutes to the Job Centre every Monday is also a factor in the depletion of my psychological reserves. The black cloud above my head is telling me to leave the doorstep and try another house. It is a shame because the house looks so fulfilling from my view.
Despite all this, I will endeavor to write more regularly. I shall try to force myself to do so. I just hope that the entries I force myself to do are not obvious due to their awfulness.
Time, as they say, marches on...
2 comments:
While your shrinking motivation is understandable, I wonder if part of the problem is that you're approaching the door you wish to pass through from only one angle. One direction. Perhaps there are many, different ways (some no doubt very round-about and not very scenic!) to get the door to open?
Finding an alternative route to the door isn't the same as turning your back on it.
There's also the possibility that it isn't the only door. And perhaps the door you're standing by is the wrong door - behind it may lie rooms that don't actually contain the things or people you need.
Have you considered trying other doors that may lead to the same destination, through different rooms and passages that aren't behind the one you now want to open?
Or maybe, the answer is simply that you shouldn't be knocking. You should be opening the door yourself, with a key.
Perhaps it's the key you need, rather than someone to hear you knocking?
I agree wholeheartedly with this comment. I couldn't have stated it better myself. Definitely something to consider and try.
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