I am worn out. I have been stuffing envelopes left and right to go to Europe. It is not the physical act, that part is a joke. It is the checking, rechecking, and the “wait let me make sure I have not mailed him one” check. That sort of thing grinds on me. This is not what I really want to be doing. Part of me wants to be in the basement studio with my guitar and my notebook or just strumming along some chord progressions that have been lurking in my head going “we are here getting dusty”, part of me wants to be in the floor with my little girl watching television, and part of me wants to take these custom forms and throw them all over the room.
Yet I know that this is part of the racket, my pound of flesh, and just part of the game. I will persevere this and they will make their way to Mr. Postman first thing in the morning, why? Because I care and want my work to be heard. It means too much to me.
Why does it matter?
Because there are so many voices, those of resistance, telling me to “put it off”, “just let it go for now”, and I know them all too well. They used to sound like this “it ain’t good enough” or “you are wasting your time they aren’t gonna play it or review it.” But you know what? If I had paid any attention to them then I would not have a front row seat for these new excuses to do something besides make all my efforts count. This is a game of inches, a game of attrition, there are no quick fixes, no magical moments where it all just happens without you knowing about it. That is why you go to through the necessary motions and learn from them. Savor them. There will be a whole new lot to take there place. There is no “when I get there” once you are on the road you just bear down and keep it between the lines. The work will take care of itself.
Elam McKnight
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