“My business is to create.” William Blake’s words are resonating in my head, as I am frantically browsing the internet, searching for the original quote, after tearfully watching P.S. I love you for the umpteenth time. This words are giving me life; it has awaken something in my mind, in my soul, I can feel it. But well – something awakens in me every now and then and all dies out as quickly as it came. I’m an artist that never produced anything – a frustrated and frustrating artist.
Okay, hold on, I’ve found it :
“I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man’s
I will not reason and compare: my business is to create”
It’s from Jerusalem, The Emanation of the Giant Albion, and I have honestly no idea of the true meaning of this phrase (I must do my research; I am, after all, an English literature graduate). Still, it has ignited something in me and this time, I have to do something. Why now? Maybe because I’m not getting any younger, and that I haven’t done anything significantly interesting yet. I’m sure you know these kind of people; the ones who are smart, good-looking, who can achieve anything, but who basically do nothing, because they are too afraid to fail. Well, that’s me, and yes, I would slap the hell out of myself if I were to meet me.
Am I suffering from the “blank page syndrome” like countless other writers out there? The thing is, the blank page is not the one in front of me (which is, apparently, not that blank); it is my life. I will be entering my thirties next year, and my biggest achievement so far are my studies. Since I was a little girl, I have always known that I wanted to go to university, to study history and literature. I did, but what now that I got my degree? My dream job – writing for money – is not the easiest to get, especially in my country, but I feel like I have to try. In the masterpiece that I want my life to be (ah these artists! always the megalomaniacs…), my ambitions need to be fulfilled, and I need to trust the law of attraction. Of course I could let go of my artistic ambitions and get an office job, which could be slightly rewarding and well-paid, given my education. But how long will I last? I happen to have the answer, actually : two years. That’s how long it lasted the last time I tried, and trust me, that was my utter maximum. Maybe I am a misfit, not well-adjusted to this society. Even though it has been really enjoyable not to worry about anything more than my daily routine for the past two years, to be able to buy me and my loved ones gifts whenever I wanted, and to go on weekend trips wherever I wanted, I felt empty. Now, I’m broke, but I’m happy, as I’m trying to get my life back on the right tracks; I just keep feeling this fear. Fear that I won’t be good enough, or strong enough, to pursue my dreams. Fear that even though I like to say that I know myself rather well, I’m mistaken about my own needs and that sometime sooner than later I would give in to the comfortable office life once again because yes, at 30, you want to make money, to be able to travel and to put a little something on your savings account.
All this thinking leads me to another point : why am I writing? What is my aim? The answer is quite simple. Writing has always been a therapy for me; as an introvert, it’s easier for me to write than it is to speak. Recently I discovered that I was also hoping to help other people who were going through the same struggles as I did, so I guess it is as simple as it gets: if I don’t confront my fear right now, I won’t ever do anything with my life, let alone helping other people. After all, as an inspirational quote on a Pinterest board would say, Fear is only temporary, but regret lasts forever.