Back in college I won a writing scholarship. It was a great deal; I had a year of my tuition paid for. And it was renewable. Unfortunately, life happened and at the end of that year I needed to walk away from the scholarship. It hurt, but it was the right thing to do.
I came to the decision after a number of long discussions with my mentor in the writing program. He listened to me at great length. Often he’d just nod in the way professors do to those of us in our early twenties who have no idea about life.
When I got through telling him why I was going to leave the scholarship he was very supportive. And he said six words to me that have stuck with me all these years.
Your art will always be there.
At the time I thought he was just trying to make me feel good for making a tough decision. It wasn’t all bad – I couldn’t dedicate time necessary to keep the scholarship, but I did continue into my senior year and graduate. He was really supportive of that decision as well.
That was Rod. He was a great guy, awesome mentor. I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who could read as fast as he did. He’d scan a page, flip it over, hold a conversation with me and actually understand what he was reading. I’ve never met anyone who could do that.
I asked him what he meant by that statement. “If you’re an artist, it’s always going to be a part of you. It won’t leave you. May may think it has, you may feel like it has, but it’ll always be there.”
At the time I thought he was out to lunch, honestly. I figured I was going to graduate, land a 9-5 job and that’d be the end of it. I was ready to not continue.
The funny thing is – Rod was spot on. It doesn’t matter if I go away for a few weeks, months, or like this last span almost a decade. I hear the call, I feel the stirring within. Something inexplicable draws me back to the art, and I’m always happier when I do it.
I think this is the third time I’ve been through a cycle like this. I write, get away for a while, then something happens and it calls me back. I come out of it and rise, pheonix-like, growing and improving when I begin again.
I started a script during covid. My dog got sick, and I was really worried. She turned out to be fine after a few days, but the pain of losing two dogs I loved dearly came to the surface and I know when I lose this one it’s going to hurt like hell. So I wrote a scene. I bawled my eyes out through most of it, and every time I read it now I still bawl my eyes out. I felt like that scene had something to it, so I wrote a few more scenes. After about 30 pages progress stopped and I felt like I hit a dead end.
For a while, my wife and I thought that I was done. Maybe I had no more stories to tell. I was ready to call it quits, but then the art called me back once more – with a bullhorn this time.
When I came back with fresh eyes, I saw the 30 pages I’d written were OK, but after those initial scenes with the power they just konked out. I think the problem was I was writing a supernatural horror movie and I got too grounded in reality. I threw out about 20 of those pages, keeping the bits that really spoke to me, and made another go of it.
I’m glad I came back to it. I finished draft one in six weeks. In the past it usually took me six months. There were some things I did, some tools I used to help boost my productivity. And some surprising sources of inspiration that make for a really interesting story. Those are for another post, dear reader.
I hope you’re not at the point of giving up, but if you found your way here and you’re in that situation please hear me out. Have hope my friend. With hope you can get up just once more. You can go just a little further and hang on a little longer. That’s all you need to do.
Because your art will always be there.