We all know I'm often followed by a black dog who tells me everything I do and everything I am is worthless.
Honestly, I'd be nothing and do nothing, and probably lie curled on the floor of my room for eternity, if it weren't for another canine in my menagerie.
We'll call him The motivator.
The motivator snarls and growls at my heels day and night. He's like the slave that stood behind Caesar at the triumph, reminding him that he's still nothing, but with a side of sharp teeth and slavering mouth.
When I was writing and no one would buy me for over ten years, I knew that I would be happy if only someone accepted one of my short stories.
Well, that happened, and that same afternoon, after enjoying success for like ten seconds, the dog started growling and biting my heels, and telling me I needed to be professionally published.
I think I enjoyed the check for my first professional sale for an hour or two, as the dog snarled and growled I must immediately start working on selling a novel.
And so it goes. I mean, for winning the dragon I got fried ice cream, so I enjoyed it for.... 15 minutes? (In my defense I was in Meeker, CO that weekend, and there really wasn't much more available in the way of fun.)
Right now the dog is mad enough with me -- February has been.... difficult to get anything done in -- not even sure why. There have been very minor health flukes, but .... very minor. It's mostly just me, being stupid, I think -- that I feel like I'm at risk of being eaten hole.
The dog stresses me, and makes me run when I could rest. He makes the idea of retirement impossible. The idea of resting on my laurels highly unlikely.
But looking at my colleagues who just gave up, oh, sorry, were happy after one short, one book, one award (or even nomination) I both envy them and bless the dog.
Because without the growls and snarls, I'd be closer to what the black dog says I am: worthless. Never did anything. Never will.
Now, if I can finish the stories I have on hand before my heels are gone, that would help. And if I could get the dog to stop snarling I need to be cleaning house while I'm writing, or that I'm wasting time when I am actually cleaning house because I should be writing, that would help too.
I am aware if I do, it will be due to the snarling dog. Almost all of us who achieve anything or do anything have one of these puppies, from the same litter.
It would be wonderful to produce in a burst of ecstatic self-confidence. And maybe some people do that. I don't know. Never met any.
For the rest of us, we curse and bless the snarling dog.
Without him, we'd be happier. But without him we'd accomplish nothing.
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