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My boyfriend asked me the other night why so many well known authors were alcoholics, severe depressants and why so many of them had gone on to kill themselves. It took me a little bit of time to find the words on why I thought this was. I thought of myself and the other artistic people that I know. So let’s go down the line.

Emotional

Artists tend to be less common sense and more emotional than most people. This seems especially true for writers. (Though far less true nowadays now that we’re in the twentieth century.) Where most people use one side of the brain most of the day artists are constantly going back and forth, making basic things (such as math) all the more difficult regardless of intelligence. I know when I do math I have one side of my brain hacking away at the problem and the other side of my brain constantly interrupting out of boredom “Why in the heck are we wasting our time on this?!” “You have better things to do!” “I am SO bored!” Making it very difficult to concentrate and it generally means a frustrated state. This makes for a a very cranky bad attitude when doing what most people would consider normal things.

Perfectionists

There are very few professional artists that I know that are not perfectionists. There will always be the lofty, no discipline, flower child artists where perfectionism does not exist. But, I find, that the artists that embrace their work with stubbornness and fierceness, are always perfectionists. I am one of these. In the above paragraph I mentioned loads of frustration. I live in a constant state of frustration if I am not careful because I never feel as though I am good enough at anything I attempt to do, my writing especially. Its apt to easily drive a person to drink because we all know, despite how bad I feel I am at it, I’m not going to stop writing. And living in that constant state of utter failure can be rather depressing.

The way we see things

And this might be the biggest one. Artists do NOT see things like other people and I believe that especially true for writers. Where painters or photographers sometimes see the beauty in things, the more writers see the reality of the world, the uglier it gets. Because, simply put, and I am a believer in this because this is how I see it; there is simply more ugly out there than beauty. We are human, lets not forget, and I feel the average human tends to focus on the negative anyway. When you take an emotional perfectionist living in a state of frustration, seeing things not just negatively but in a million negative ways, you tend to get someone who lives on a tight rope between suicide and trying to find a reason to keeping living and, normally, they keep living just out of habit. Or, and I think this being the most common, they can’t die yet, they’ve got that book that they have to finish no matter how shitty they think it might be.

Seeing Ourselves

And this leads me to how artists see themselves. They are emotional and that makes them doubtful. They are perfectionists and that makes them failures. They see the world more deeply and from more angles so they see a thousands times the horror and ugliness in this world than most people; they are simply incapable of naivety. They see themselves with more accuracy than any human being ever will and I do not mean the good sides of themselves. So, yeah, I think that just about explains why artists tend to be addicts and suicidal.

But there is good there too. We do see ourselves, we are more aware of why we do the things we do because we study humanity. We have a tendency to know the outcomes of our choices even before we make the choices. Yes, this does tend to make us control freaks but it also makes us the kinda folks you want on your team.

I have an example of this line of thinking that happened in my own life not too long ago. I’ve never wanted a typical life or to have kids and its always made me just ridiculously angry when people ever suggested I should have kids. Anything that I do (because I’m a writer) that I don’t understand, has always really bothered me. And don’t get me wrong, I had many theories, and though none of them were entirely wrong as to my reaction to having kids, none of them were quite right either.

Then, it dawned on me that I have never once been involved with a man who would support or help me. To me, having children with what I have come to believe is the normal man, would be me working minimum wage for years, living in poverty, literally using food stamps so I could eat, because I have never known a man capable of support (of any kind whether it be financial or emotional, despite some very good intentions). So, my reality of having kids would be willingly hopping into single mom status and divorce, moving back in with my mom and losing another ten years of my writing life working my ass off just to eat and support my children. And so, of course anyone telling me that that is what I should want with my life immediately enraged me.

The truly rough part of it is, is that I still believe all of that. Of the relationships I’ve had with men, being told I would be alone the rest of my life because I did not want children, I wish I had known what I am aware of now so I could have told them, “No, I’m just not stupid enough to want kids with you. YOU are not responsible enough (proven by your actions) and I refuse to be the only adult. If I have kids, I want them to have a real home with real parents who are partners, who share the burden. Hell, I just want a real home of my own: to be able to support myself one day!” I know too many women who had to do it all because their “men” simply weren’t man enough to do anything but make excuses while their women went out and got third jobs while raising the kids almost entirely alone. You might argue, men have it rough today, ok, fine, I’ll bite (as if women don’t have it rough too), but there is one major flaw in that argument: I do know good men who don’t need excuses. In fact, as unbelievable as it may be, I have one in my life right now who loves me, when I would of told you a few months ago that good men no longer existed.

So, in my view of the world, I was finally able to surmise my actions and my emotional responses to this huge thing in my life. This is my attempt to use common sense and my artistic self together to improve my actions by finally truly seeing and embracing what motivates my emotional responses from the very beginning. All I saw when having kids was my giving up it all so a man could continue living an easy life and get the experience of having a child. And I was raised, told, that that is what a real woman is; she gives up her life so her man can have one. Rage? Oh yeah, rage with no limits, rage that engulfed me for years at the utter unfairness. No wonder I bulked at the very mention of anyone telling me to have kids. And now that I see it, its so obvious, but isn’t that how it goes?

This is an aspect of being a writer I don’t think anyone ever really considers or knows, not even the writers themselves. How we delve into the actions, into the humanity, into the emotional responses that make us people. And I think to be an accurate writer we first must see ourselves and all the mysteries, the millions of tiny experiences, that dictate our every action for our entire lives.

Summer is waning and it is both sad and good. If you’ve been reading you know my attitude changed earlier this year and my time priorities have changed drastically. I found that in myself was where it had to change the most. I found so much of the extra and free work I was doing was just in my own desperate need to be accepted, to make other people happy and to prove that I could do it without failure no matter the hours or the stress. As you might have imagined it dawned on me that those were really pretty tragic reasons to live. I had realized all of those things months ago with my personal life and this last change was in my professional life. I can say now I feel very free, especially confident and I have real faith that my future will be a good one. I have never been so excited. And I feel like I’ve written that word before “free” and, yes, I have written that word here before. It was when I finally got out of that bad relationship and out of Oklahoma for the last time. Free. I was free, I was confident then, at least in my personal life, I had finally broken into a place where  I did not need a man to approve of me to make my life a reality. Now it is happened all the way throughout my entire life. In every aspect I am finally free and feel like my priorities when it comes to family, work and play are finally all settled and right.

I had no idea that I needed a breakthrough like this for my professional life as well  (if you had told me so I wouldn’t have believed you.) But I guess that’s the way these things go. I don’t need anyone’s approval anymore. It started with breaking away from needing my dad to tell me I was right, then it moved to Joseph (now my ex) and then the last of it was in all the people that wanted something from me professionally (for pay or for none and in some cases I was actually paying them). And now, finally, the only people I want approval from are those that I love and respect. But I only want it, I don’t need it to believe I’m doing what’s right anymore. It’s come full circle and with each step above I was getting closer to the final break through. When I drove out of Oklahoma alone, the last time, that was truly the end… or I should say the beginning? of the Tarah who would never be used or walked on again.

Am I still too nice? Sure I am. And I don’t mind. A lot of people see me and think I’m naive but I don’t care. What they see and what I’m thinking about them and their tired lives and bitter behavior are two very different things. In fact, I’m usually thinking that even my outward showing of how pathetic they are is more of my time then they deserve. I’m not here to judge or give a rats ass as to what anyone else is doing. As long as people don’t bother me, I make a real point now, in my life, to not even see them.

What I do now is enjoy because I feel like I got out of hell with my skin in tact. I got out of being used and abused. I got out of a friendless, unhappy existence and am finally home again. All I have now is what I always wanted: People to love. People to laugh with. People to go out with and dance with. Time to write. Am I broke? Sure I am. But I have enough. And now I have the attitude and the realization that there is nothing I NEED to do. Absolutely nothing and no one can tell me otherwise. Instead, I see my life in choices and I have never been so happy, or so free.

You probably already caught that the fling I started last winter didn’t last long (to the relief of everyone who knew about it and loved me lol) but I figure we need our flings; mistakes can be a certain amount of fun if you get out in time. What I have now is something that I have never before had in my life. Something that I didn’t mean to happen and, yes, that does make it scary, but for a girl like me who puts a certain amount of planning into every word and step (unless I’m drunk of course lol…) what happened was nothing short of miraculous, fate-inspired, skin tingling (wow I hate all of those descriptions but I can’t think of better, those are just disgusting I am so sorry maybe sex-at-first-touch? That kinda works but it’s not really what happened… so, anywaaay….) What happened was not planned, nor was it in any way what either him nor I had felt or considered before it happened. He was my best friend, he still is. As you might imagine I now actually understand what they mean when they say, “No, really, it just HAPPENED!” But regardless of all of that, whether it was planned or not, whether that makes it terrifying or not, I can honestly say that every time he touches me I would change nothing, I regret nothing. When I’m with him I feel like I’m on the brink of a real life.

I am not the only one who has ever thought this, in fact what I am about to bring up is a thought that is hugely common to all writers. Time sucks. Because, let’s face it, writing takes time. Bad writing takes an eternity, good writing takes twice that. Right now, I have four jobs, a new boyfriend, a new lease on life that makes me want to do nothing but play and play (because now that I’m finally out of hell I think I have a right to some fun before I die!) as well as the sudden realization that I have been living to work, putting aside the things I want to do to make other people happy (without pay most of the time) and leaving an office job to go home and get back to work and that I am simply no longer willing to do this. I am no longer willing to drop my life to make other people happy, I am no longer willing to take client calls on my personal cell phone at eleven o’clock at night and I am no longer willing to check my email and do updates (without pay again mind you) 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Its About Balance

So, with that all said, where does that leave my writing time? First things first is that I must prioritize. A few years ago if I heard someone had quit working for a non profit organization to have more time for themselves I would have thought them selfish bastards. Now, of course, my view is a bit different. Now when I hear someone has to drop the work they’re doing for other people I think, wow, what courage, good for them. Because now I know just how mind and soul sucking organizations can be, in fact any work you do for free will somehow start to grow and breed until suddenly it is all that you are doing in your spare time. Don’t get me wrong, you will find great acclaim and a ton of pats on the back for this kind of work but, unless you’re retired, you will get nothing else out of it accept the loss of your writing time. Is that entirely fair? No, I owe a lot to the wonderful organizations I have been a part of, but there must be balance and they all have one thing in common, if you give a little bit of time, you will end up giving all of it and more.

So, prioritize, it is time to get selfish. Take a close look at everything you do in a day. Just like if you were strapped for cash and you needed to look at every penny of spending, it’s time do that with your time. With money you look at that gym membership and think, “Would I rather have that or the money? Is it worth the money I’m sending on it? Is it benefiting me enough to continue paying for it?” Now, its time do that with every minute in your day. With money there are things you can’t set aside like paying rent, paying your house payment, paying for insurance and filling up your gas tank and so it also is with time like sleeping, showering, doing laundry, eating and going to work. However, if you’re like me, there are things that you can let go of. My biggest hurdle was forcing myself into regular hours with my web business. The first thing I did was decide that I would NEVER work more than twelve hour days again. So, that means after working ten hours at my three other jobs than I only have two hours to work on my web updates. If I go over twelve hours before I even get to my email than I don’t do updates that day. And the updates that get into my inbox first (as well as those people that are nice about it, do not nag me, call me, suggest I am not taking my business seriously enough and bitch at me like its the end of the world and also that actually pay me) get first dibs on my time.

So, look at your life and think time-wise like you would money-wise, “Would I rather do that or have the time for my writing/myself? Is it worth the time I’m spending on it? Is it even benefiting me enough to continue wasting my time on it?”

So, has this been a Detriment to my business?

In all actuality, I have suffered very little from cutting my hours. With my new attitude, I have no problem looking anyone in the eye and saying, “Find someone else, the money is not worth the amount of time it will take me to do it. I would rather be poor than your servant.” So (if I do lose business) it will only be the business that couldn’t pay me enough to make it worth it anyway.

Selfish? Absolutely! I have removed myself as far as I could from the Blank Canvas Gallery (I am no longer a member and am hanging my prints elsewhere though I still do some updates for them), am doing bare minimum for the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc (got those two big books done now if I make a writers’ meeting its because I feel like it not because I’m obligated to) and those web clients that have a problem with my new schedule I am gladly referring to other web designers. First I think, what do I want to be doing right now? Whether it be golfing, having sex, playing Nintendo, watching a movie or writing, I find now that I actually have the time and the choice to do it.

What is Really Remarkable

What is truly remarkable is that I haven’t actually freed up all that much of my time. Instead, I’ve freed up my heart. I have given myself the hall pass for my whole life. Those phone calls are not the end of the world, neither are those emails, none of it is worth fretting or stressing over. In fact, they can wait for another day and it’s ok if I dissapoint someone and maybe they find another person to update their websites. Its okay. I have a pass. Because, quite frankly, that’s not how I want to live my life. I’m not here to make certain I don’t disappoint other people. I’m here to make certain that I don’t disappoint myself ever again and that means putting what I want to do in this life first. I want to write and the only thing that should ever come first are the have to’s: like paying bills and sleeping; anything else is trivial. And I am pleased to report that with my new attitude and time I have been able to even take a day or two off a month to spend with my family