Does writing beget laziness, or does laziness beget writing?
It was yesterday (see previous post) that, when I was over-extending some under-used muscles and excreting a fair amount of elbow grease, this question came to mind. It was because I couldn't stop the internal whining...
Oh, why is this my job?
Does anyone understand how difficult this is?
I just want to be downstairs with my computer!
And then I thought...
What the heck is wrong with me?
I should be grateful for the chance to do such work. I should be thankful I'm physically capable of putting such effort into a project, and that I'll be able to reap the rewards later. I should welcome the chance to do something different, to make a change. Instead of complain about the energy I have to expend.
Really, I do projects like this so very infrequently. I can't remember the last time I worked so hard (motherhood aside). Am I lazy? Perhaps in some ways.
But writing calls for stillness. For sitting and being sedentary. It's what I'm used to; it's the level of energy I'm comfortable putting out. It's not draining or difficult - in a physical way - to write, other than your average sore tushie or crick in the neck.
So that made me wonder... Have I become lazy and sedentary because I'm drawn to the writer's life... or does the writer's life appeal to me because I'm lazy and sedentary? How do you think it works? Is it different for everyone?
*BIG thanks to my sister-in-law, who spent a good part of the day looking after the kidlets. I so appreciate it, Sara. Singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to entertain the girls is possible from a 16-foot scaffolding... but it gets old... Thanks for playing with the girls while I worked. You rock!