There is the dream, you are the words, you merge them together and you have the book. Are you sending manuscripts yet, writing your books yet, living your dreams yet?
Am I living my dream yet? For me, the question is always, “Are you allowing yourself to live the dream yet?” Let me say first that my dream has always been to retire to the mountains and write. This is my laptop background to remind me. I posted on another blog that there is always the ‘but’. So, in answering the first, I could say yes, I’m living my dream, but…
I’m sitting on a deck nestled in the treetops of Godfrey Mountain in the Blue Ridge Mountains writing this blog post, but it isn’t my deck; but I’m not writing my novel.
I have found a home that looks out to the forest in front and back, but I haven’t figured out a way to financially move my stuff there yet.
My new small home-town of 1200 has its own Arts Association where maybe I could teach creative writing but I haven’t visited yet because I need to settle first.
This same small towns has an adult education facility where maybe I could teach ESL or GED classes but I’ve not visited yet because I need to settle first.
I’ve been in this small town for a month now.
I have two ¼ time jobs to pay the bills while I write but…
Every moment with every thought I must swat at that incessant but and remind myself that yes, I am living my dream. I must constantly fence with the encamped capitalist who shakes her coiffed and painted head, waggles her lacquered nail and says, “But what do you have? But how are you living? But what are you driving? But, but, but…”
The duels are less frequent now and I am less bloody. I’ve found that I cannot argue, cannot rationalize, cannot stand toe-to-toe with this sword wielding Barbie wanna-be. I used to say: “But I have everything I need; but I enjoy my home; but my vehicle is paid for; and when she’d slice below the belt with “but you’re all alone”, would quickly counter with, “but I enjoy my solitude.” They were hollow shots that ricochet off her fencing mask and reverberated my rusty sword with a twang to the heart.
The duels end much quicker now when I ignore the slashing and whipping of wind. And they are easier to ignore now that I am in the midst of my dream. When I look out over the treetops at the mist lingering in the forest canopy instead of leaning over a city porch above steaming dumpsters, her buts disintegrate into the whispers of the leaves.
It was the forward movement toward the dream that made the difference. She is not silenced, not yet, maybe she never will be, but at least she is muzzled and muffled.
What are your buts? In what ways do you battle with that internal warrior? What steps have you made toward your dream?
Write your dream in one sentence. For example: Retire to the mountains and write.
Not: A three bedroom home with 2 baths and hardwood floors on 5 acres of land with barns, pasture and horses, A white wrap-around porch with blue flower-cushioned wicker chairs and swings, and a manicured lawn. Retire to the mountains and write. Anything else can be added.
The dream is:
Then listen to your heart and take the first step, which is always the hardest. Just move without leaving time for the internal warrior to even prepare for battle. “When you want something, all the universe conspires to help you achieve it.” The Alchemist