I want to be a great writer and philosopher of social change. Yet I have a house and a mortgage, a wife and kids, a job with a boss. When the hell do I write and pursue my overarching goal?
I don’t hate any of these things. I love my wife and my kids. I enjoy my job, even though it’s not paying me to philosophize. I have files of notes on all my great ideas, but I’m not getting any seminal works completed. Pursuing one goal — caring for my family — definitely impeded my other goal. Call it dysergy if you want; I call it changing diapers and watching ballet practice.
I’m not about to pull a Gauguin and abandon all this to go paint in Tahiti.
Okay, all of this was true for me 30 or 40 years ago. My wife and I both worked hard to put our kids through college and care for our elderly parents. Then kids graduated, parents died. Suddenly we’re swimming in time and money.
Now’s the time to pursue our big goals. But even now we have to choose. I discovered (in a workshop called “Unfinished Business”) I would rather write my stories than be a pundit. There are already too many social change bullshit artists in the world. But the world definitely needs my sci fi stories.
Dysergy is a good word, but don’t beat yourself up over it. Life has its demands.