I was at a Writer’s Colony this week in Eureka Springs, Arkansas to work on the final chapters and first edits of my upcoming non-fiction mystery.
I Knew That
I had an enormous amount of work to do and I couldn’t f*ck around.
I Also Knew That
after writing all day, I would not be able to write all night. Also, my cousin Lulu has trained me to look around and see what I can see when I am travelling, even if it’s to a town with a burgeoning ghost tour business and a population of less than 2200 people.
So I perused the local arts scene
and as luck would have it, there was an Opera of the Ozarks six miles from where I was staying. They had a few shows playing while I was in town like for example La Traviata.
I bought a ticket
not because I’m super opera-oriented, but because I figured if they are going to have an opera in the middle of the Ozarks, I really should go. Also, I’m a fan of the artist’s date and this seemed like a good opportunity.
It turned out
that after 75 years playing in that outdoor theatre, this was their last show. Next season, they will be playing in a brand new facility sponsored by the Walton family. As you can imagine they gave it their all. There was not an empty seat in the house.
I left at the first intermission
with no regrets. Lulu has also convinced me that this is a perfectly viable way to consume culture. I was able to fully enjoy the costumes, the music and the English subtitles projected onto a wood beam in back because I knew it was a time limited opportunity. I didn’t have to worry about driving home on the pitch black twisty backroads because it was still light out when I left. I didn’t have to worry about being tired the next day and not being able to write because I was safely tucked into my Writer’s Colony bed by 9:30pm.
I bought the t-shirt
because it still counts.
How this relates to you
well, to all of us, is that sometimes we avoid doing something because it seems like it’s going to be too big of a commitment. As writers and artists, time is our un-replaceable commodity. Leaving at intermission gives you permission to try something even if you aren’t sure you’re going to like it. You can try the opera - or the play, or the book or the movie - and leave before it’s over.
Persistence doesn’t mean
that you have to finish a book that you don’t like or stay until the dying end of La Traviata, especially if the seats are super uncomfortable and you have to spend the next day in front of your computer watching videos of Yad Vashem to make sure you got all the facts straight.
It means that you need to do whatever you can to keep yourself motivated. If you are reluctant to try new things because you are nervous that you aren’t going to like them - that you’re going to feel trapped, or obliged, or held captive - please bear in mind that you can always leave halfway through. In fact you can plan to leave halfway through and only stay if you really, really want to.
And if you find yourself in the Ozarks next season, let me know how the new theatre is. I heard the acoustics will be great.
I just love this blog/newsletter! I have frequently left at intermission without regrets, and I think I've also done this with writing projects. A recent rejection of a project, for instance, motivated me to leave the genre for good, even after some 25 years. Onward!
Right? Sometimes writing needs to be left on the side and no need to look back! I appreciate your appreciation!!