Like that one guy said: Good writers borrow, great writers steal. Welcome to the place where all things have been lifted, looted, and otherwise pilfered…Remember, possession is 9/10s of the law.
School, school, school’s almost over. Thirteen years after I originally started college, one Associates degree, five majors, a decade of working at Barnes and Noble, and a multitude of personal dramas later, I will finally have my B.A. In creative writing.
That’s a very satisfying accomplishment. Yay me!
Then there’s that nagging little thought: the Now What?
I already have a sort-of plan in place that I’m hoping will work out…trying to think of alternatives in case it doesn’t. Mainly, my goal is to write and write and write. After all, the degree I earned was for writing, yes? Gotta put that stuff to work.
Still, it’s not an unstressful proposition. For so long I’ve worked toward one thing that the social world accepts fairly well: getting an education, a degree. Learning shit. To suddenly (and it does feel sudden) jump from that world into this new one where there’s no garuntee of success, and no real brass ring to grab hold of (after all, how does on define success for writing? Prizes? Getting paid? Finishing a sentence?) I feel groundless. And potentially spoiled, because how many other writers really get a chance to do that? So then there’s the pressure of producing, because all those other obstacles are now presumably removed.
Have you guys ever had that “Now what the hell do I do?” sensation? About what? How did you handle it?