Write it off.

This is the attitude that I am trying to cultivate.

Remember all those little league games. Well, I don’t, but I remember the concept. You came sliding into third base and twist your leg just as the overzealous third baseman slams the ball right in your teeth, and, Sweet Mary, it hurts.

What does everyone say then? Walk it off. Okay, go to the dentist, then walk it off. Get up. Do it again.

That’s what I’m trying to do here, and, Sweet Mary, it hurts. I mean, really hurts. My life doesn’t leave the time to do what I want.

But I want this book finished. I want it like I never wanted anything, so I’m gonna do it. Even if I wind up bloody and toothless by the end, I’m gonna do this.

I keep asking myself, “why?” There’s no easy answer to that question. Why do I want this as badly as I do. I don’t really know. I just do. Is it any different than that little league trophy? Maybe not.

Maybe it’s a second childhood goal, but what if it’s not? What if finishing this novel has more to do with who I am than what I want?

I think that’s why. I really do. Because I don’t know which matters more, both matter equally. The result is the same. I do this.

Little League baseball on a Saturday afternoon...
Little League baseball on a Saturday afternoon, 30 May 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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