Rick, I love the tongue-in-cheek tone of your very helpful (and oh-so-very timely!) essay.
I would've commented sooner, but I had to: check my car's tire pressure; water AND hand-polish the houseplants; balance my checkbook; de-lint my navel; arrange my refrigerated veggies in alphabetical order; Water Pick my lower teeth; refold my laundry; watch an AI-generated talking pit bull on YouTube; Water Pick my upper teeth; wash my Nike's shoestrings; and brush my teeth (uppers *and* lowers, since I'm a Shining Beacon of efficiency).
Tomorrow I'm definitely going to write. After watching a critical episode of "The British Baking Show" on Netflix. Priorities, dammit!
Seriously, I really needed to read this. Thank you, kind sir.
So glad this helped Larry. Sorry I can't respond in full to your hilarious comment at the moment, I'm kinda busy with . . . well . . . you can imagine.
Rick, I read this with a familiar, sinking admiration. My own masterpiece is waiting, but first—there is a dusty painting on the wall that needs polishing. And a splash of paint on the wooden floor from the last renovation, now a permanent guest, that suddenly demands to be scrubbed.
Your wit may be lost on some, but it hits me in the kidneys. I come from decades in the civil service, where multi-tasking wasn't an art—it was a survival reflex under pressure. The tangents, the mundane weights that wear us down? They are often the very grit that seeds the idea. As my wife just called up: “Someone needs to come and hoover the kitchen.”
On a serious note, your essay is the perfect rebuttal to the old chestnut: “Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.” We’ve twisted it. We let what we can do—the cleaning, the fixing, the organising—become a barricade against what we must do: the terrifying, glorious act of creating something that didn’t exist before.
The hoovering will always be there. The masterpiece might not. Thank you for the laugh, and the liberating slap. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the kitchen floor awaits its prophet.
Such a pleasure to have you putting your attention on anything that I've shared and to have the joyful anticipation of seeing how you'll digest it and what you'll reflect back. The observation of our twist on interference, how we actually create our own, strategically placed as an obstacle to what we MUST DO on behalf of our purpose—yes. That's the issue here. Also I appreciate you calling out a masterpiece is of the moment, seizing the opportunity to walk through a doorway that is suddenly opened and may not remain so. Thank you for the poetry of your perspective.
Rick, your generosity in return is a gift. You've pinpointed the cruellest twist of the creative psyche: we don't just encounter interference—we become its architect and janitor.
That suddenly opened doorway you mention—it doesn't whisper. It doesn't wait. It appears in a moment of quiet between the vacuum's roar and the phone's ping, and it asks for a step taken in pure, illogical faith. No checklist, no clean floor, no perfected self. Just a heart beating in the dark, and a choice to cross the threshold before it vanishes.
Thank you for the conversation, and for the permission to laugh at the beautiful, ridiculous seriousness with which we delay our own greatness. The masterpiece, it seems, was never waiting for us to be ready. It was waiting for us to be brave.
"A good rule of thumb is to spend approximately seven per cent more than your food and housing costs on writing courses, groups, programs, apps, and tools. "
I've been thinking about how to invest in myself - I think I'm underinvesting. I've never thought of allocating a percentage of expenses to it. But 7% more than food and housing costs seems too high for me.
Consulting an expensive financial planner on the manner before you spend anytime writing and publishing would probably be a good idea in your circumstance.
Waiting for the release of Fido-Train4U, the robot coaching dog that gives you something to take care of, leaves "surprises" around the house for you clean up when you need a distraction, and quizzes you on writing craft throughout the day.
Facetiousness accepted ... I do nevertheless have to make the bed before settling into my grand opus. Otherwise, I might begin to turn into, oh, say, Charles Bukowski... the indesputable master of the messy life... whose saving grace was his persistance through many messy decades living in flophouses until he emerged one of America's foremost and most truthful poets. Not sure what the point of this post is... feel free to comment...
I have no problem with calling into question the point of the post as well as your comment. : ) But regarding your comment, I think invoking the spirit of Bukowski is perfect in and of itself, a worthy persona to be looking down at our antics and reminding us that letting things be messy (in one's house and in one's personal life) might be not just okay, but advisable for the artist's life.
My fav is #3... and in particular "A good rule of thumb is to spend approximately seven percent more than your food and housing costs on writing courses, groups, programs, apps, and tools. For best results, start several courses at a time and attempt to engage them simultaneously." though most of those course are not even about writing-- but my "inner growth" etc.... Love this light hearted view of what we do. Thanks.
This is brilliant, Rick! You are truly Honestly Human. And next time I have the urge to polish my house plants, wash the dishes and shine the kitchen counter before I have expressed my creativity, I know that I will hear your Voice.
Rick, I love the tongue-in-cheek tone of your very helpful (and oh-so-very timely!) essay.
I would've commented sooner, but I had to: check my car's tire pressure; water AND hand-polish the houseplants; balance my checkbook; de-lint my navel; arrange my refrigerated veggies in alphabetical order; Water Pick my lower teeth; refold my laundry; watch an AI-generated talking pit bull on YouTube; Water Pick my upper teeth; wash my Nike's shoestrings; and brush my teeth (uppers *and* lowers, since I'm a Shining Beacon of efficiency).
Tomorrow I'm definitely going to write. After watching a critical episode of "The British Baking Show" on Netflix. Priorities, dammit!
Seriously, I really needed to read this. Thank you, kind sir.
So glad this helped Larry. Sorry I can't respond in full to your hilarious comment at the moment, I'm kinda busy with . . . well . . . you can imagine.
Did you mean to leave out cleaning the inside of your nose or you just forgot? I'm done with my writing for the day.
😭😭😭 feels like a direct attack! Somehow my house is never cleaner than when I need to sit and write. Not to mention what a great friend I am.
Ha ha, yes, and clearly you're under a deadline at this very moment, otherwise you never would have had the time to generously comment.
😂😂😂 accurate
This should have been an April 1st post. 🙃
Ah, so true. Couldn't wait to share it. : )
"I hope you can find something to write about."
Were you trying to trick me a second time with that closer, Rick? ;)
Of course. That sentence was specifically for you.
JK
😅
You nailed it, with a touch of whimsy, and a gallon of truth.
You've already got the pet thing handled so you've already passed the masterclass.
How did you get that picture of me doing my windows?
You actually made me laugh out loud. Thank you Lizzie.
Thanks Rick – your piece made me rock with laughter! And have you installed a camera in my flat?
Although you did get one thing tragically wrong: I manage to do a ,magnificent job of procrastination without ever cleaning my house..
. . . you've so entertained me today with your responses. Too good.
Thanks Rick!
Rick, I read this with a familiar, sinking admiration. My own masterpiece is waiting, but first—there is a dusty painting on the wall that needs polishing. And a splash of paint on the wooden floor from the last renovation, now a permanent guest, that suddenly demands to be scrubbed.
Your wit may be lost on some, but it hits me in the kidneys. I come from decades in the civil service, where multi-tasking wasn't an art—it was a survival reflex under pressure. The tangents, the mundane weights that wear us down? They are often the very grit that seeds the idea. As my wife just called up: “Someone needs to come and hoover the kitchen.”
On a serious note, your essay is the perfect rebuttal to the old chestnut: “Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.” We’ve twisted it. We let what we can do—the cleaning, the fixing, the organising—become a barricade against what we must do: the terrifying, glorious act of creating something that didn’t exist before.
The hoovering will always be there. The masterpiece might not. Thank you for the laugh, and the liberating slap. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the kitchen floor awaits its prophet.
Such a pleasure to have you putting your attention on anything that I've shared and to have the joyful anticipation of seeing how you'll digest it and what you'll reflect back. The observation of our twist on interference, how we actually create our own, strategically placed as an obstacle to what we MUST DO on behalf of our purpose—yes. That's the issue here. Also I appreciate you calling out a masterpiece is of the moment, seizing the opportunity to walk through a doorway that is suddenly opened and may not remain so. Thank you for the poetry of your perspective.
Rick, your generosity in return is a gift. You've pinpointed the cruellest twist of the creative psyche: we don't just encounter interference—we become its architect and janitor.
That suddenly opened doorway you mention—it doesn't whisper. It doesn't wait. It appears in a moment of quiet between the vacuum's roar and the phone's ping, and it asks for a step taken in pure, illogical faith. No checklist, no clean floor, no perfected self. Just a heart beating in the dark, and a choice to cross the threshold before it vanishes.
Thank you for the conversation, and for the permission to laugh at the beautiful, ridiculous seriousness with which we delay our own greatness. The masterpiece, it seems, was never waiting for us to be ready. It was waiting for us to be brave.
💙
"A good rule of thumb is to spend approximately seven per cent more than your food and housing costs on writing courses, groups, programs, apps, and tools. "
I've been thinking about how to invest in myself - I think I'm underinvesting. I've never thought of allocating a percentage of expenses to it. But 7% more than food and housing costs seems too high for me.
How did you come up with that figure?
Consulting an expensive financial planner on the manner before you spend anytime writing and publishing would probably be a good idea in your circumstance.
…question for you and the family…will you or won’t you get one of the upcoming onslaught of housekeeping robots?…how
important is the act of cleanery?…
Waiting for the release of Fido-Train4U, the robot coaching dog that gives you something to take care of, leaves "surprises" around the house for you clean up when you need a distraction, and quizzes you on writing craft throughout the day.
…i think i saw one on craigslist…
Facetiousness accepted ... I do nevertheless have to make the bed before settling into my grand opus. Otherwise, I might begin to turn into, oh, say, Charles Bukowski... the indesputable master of the messy life... whose saving grace was his persistance through many messy decades living in flophouses until he emerged one of America's foremost and most truthful poets. Not sure what the point of this post is... feel free to comment...
I have no problem with calling into question the point of the post as well as your comment. : ) But regarding your comment, I think invoking the spirit of Bukowski is perfect in and of itself, a worthy persona to be looking down at our antics and reminding us that letting things be messy (in one's house and in one's personal life) might be not just okay, but advisable for the artist's life.
... I mean to say 'not sure the point of my comment'... feel free to comment...
How brave (and clever) of you to let your inner saboteur to write an article (thus exposing all of his tricks).
Oh no, those are not, by far, all of its tricks. I'd need an entire filmed documentary to cover the full extent of the saboteur.
Sounds like a book in waiting.
Reading this I looked over my shoulder and expected to spot a hidden camera there.
The only forever unfinished task you forgot about is the basement.
Ah, yes, the basement! How could I have forgotten!
What a relief to know I'm on the right track!
Happy to have delivered the reassurance.
My fav is #3... and in particular "A good rule of thumb is to spend approximately seven percent more than your food and housing costs on writing courses, groups, programs, apps, and tools. For best results, start several courses at a time and attempt to engage them simultaneously." though most of those course are not even about writing-- but my "inner growth" etc.... Love this light hearted view of what we do. Thanks.
Yes, we're so good at this we could take a course on refrigerator repair and have creative justification for its need, couldn't we?
This is brilliant, Rick! You are truly Honestly Human. And next time I have the urge to polish my house plants, wash the dishes and shine the kitchen counter before I have expressed my creativity, I know that I will hear your Voice.
Needed this Kick in the Butt to be KickAss!
Yes Srishti, yes! I'm sending you kick ass prayers today. In fact, don't even read this comment. Proceed directly to ass kicking without passing go.