It occurs to me that maybe productive output in terms of words, sentences, thoughts--complete, coherent, articulate thoughts, anyway--is perhaps a finite resource. It sure seems that way.
I'm not blogging here. Anymore. Why? I don't seem to have much to say. Or, at least, to have much left to say. Or, maybe it is that I just don't have time.
I'm working on my doctorate. It's a great program, one that is growing by leaps and bounds, and for good reason. One that is aligned with an Ignatian philosophy--care of the individual, social justice, striving for excellence and the greater good--that resonates solidly with me. One that I can complete, living in Europe, primarily through distance learning.
I'm writing a lot, and reading even more. That is in addition to the heavy reading and writing I do as part of my day job. And in addition to any recreational reading (e.g. none) and writing (e.g. this blog, and not since last July) I might do.
Writing papers, writing discussion posts and responses...writing my reflections and musings (in consummate APA style, always). I get regular compliments ("you write so well," "great 'voice,'" "you are very articulate," etc.); I like that--I like compliments. But the writing is not gratifying in the same way as journaling, as writing from the heart. It is writing as a means, not as an end.
My wife, on the other hand, is working on her third unpublished novel. Her joy in writing is in the act, in the process, in the creation. And, she has no deadlines, no due dates, and no work or school assignments consuming her finite resource. She is writing just for herself.
She is very lucky.
Oh, she's also very good. Search Arlee Olson on Amazon.com and you can download one of her titles to your Kindle reader, if you want to see what I mean.
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