I realized something this week. All my life I have thought it would be possible for me to attain rock star status. Although I may have tried my hand at music for a couple of years, I don’t mean that kind of rock star. . . at least not exactly.
I mean, I had always thought that if I tried hard enough, it would be possible to accomplish something that I could be proud of. Fame was never really of all that much importance, it was all about actually accomplishing something that I could leave as some sort of legacy, something that at least one person might be able to remember me for, something I could show the world (if they decided to look my way) and prove that my existence had been worthwhile.
This week I finally realized that this is not the case. . . at least not in the way I had always envisioned. People would argue that my children are my legacy, and I’ll admit that they are both pretty darn awesome already, and they are still both very young. But with the idea of actually producing some form of art I could show the world. . . well, it just doesn’t appear to be the case.
This is going to sound pretty defeatist, I’m already aware. . . but that’s how I’m feeling at the moment. After years and years of working to perfect my art, I finally created something I was/am truly proud of, something I believe could have been considered at least the start of my legacy.
I have since realized that no one cared.
After having so many things that I consider failures, to have come up with something that I truly believed in meant that I believed someone would show the slightest bit of interest. Instead, I have found it impossible to garner such interest, at least true interest.
As such, I’ve found that I just can’t do it anymore. Being an artist sucks. It takes so much time to actually perfect your art, any art, that when you believe you’ve finally gotten there, only to get absolutely no one to care. . . well, it just plain sucks.
And I can’t play that game any more. I don’t have the emotional energy necessary to pretend I’m okay with this. To put so much time and energy into anything, especially when that time and energy isn’t actually available to begin with, is risky. To do so time and time again and not receive any form of return on that investment, not even something as small as a critique from those who take the time to read it. . . well, it’s discouraging. And I am officially discouraged.
Over the past 10+ years I have been optimistic. I have fully believed I would be able to succeed. Today, that optimism is gone. Even if I were to create something perfect, something so brilliantly beautiful that it would be impossible to ignore its beauty, I’d still have to convince people to look at it. I’m finding that to be an insurmountable task. And considering the fact that what I have is not perfect, well, that means that the few people I can actually get to take a look at it have to see past the imperfections. That’s even less of a possibility.
The odds are against the artist today. And considering the fact that I’m not a master, well, that just makes things worse for me.
I want to say I can push on, that I can see past the dark days into the days where I actually do create something deemed worthy by the literary gods. But I don’t. And I don’t have the energy to fight that fight any longer.
As such, I’m taking some time off. I’ve got so many other good things going on in my life, at the very least with my wife and children, that I hate waking up everyday thinking it could be the one where I win. I’ve already won, just not where I had been hoping I could.
Maybe after the pain of rejection has passed I will find my way back to the keyboard to try again. I do have the habit of constantly climbing back on that damned proverbial horse. But in a sense of clarity I haven’t felt for such a long time, I’m realizing I can’t make this my life’s goal anymore. It’s a dream, and at some point a dream has to be seen as such. Unfortunately, that generally happens after one has come crashing to the ground.
I will do something with the books I have already written. It will probably be to self-publish them in some way. However, I feel the need to do some revisions on both before doing that, meaning it will take some time before I get to that point. I can’t live in that world right now.
So, I’m going back to just being a dude. A dad. A husband. I used to think I could be a rock star, but now I realize my rock needs to be a bit more earthbound.
No promises on updates on here anytime soon.