The Nicest Burdens

Burdens?  What burdens?  I refer to reading and writing.  No, don’t scream at me!  I use the word with complete honesty.

There are most definitely times when both are, to me at least, very burdensome.  Sometimes, with reading, it’s the sheer volume of books I want to read, and have available to read.  I’m a slow reader.  I savour the written word.   That means that I may be really looking forward to reading something but either I’m already reading something or I’m in that dreadful limbo, where I simply haven’t the energy to read anything.  That limbo!  Cruellest of places for any avid reader.  It may be the result of poor health, simple tiredness, or having finished a book that has had a profound effect, making it impossible to select something new (or old) to read.  The only way to deal with the limbo is to weather it.

The burden of writing is rather odd for me.  I cannot and will not work to a deadline.  I may set myself a target, but such things are very flexible and I feel no shame in failing to meet such targets.  So where does the burden come from?  Simply knowing that I have a work in progress!  Or, to be more precise, usually several WIPs.  Such knowledge can weigh heavily.  It doesn’t matter why things aren’t progressing as they should.  It suffices that they aren’t.  I feel a degree of guilt for every day that passes without doing something towards those WIPs.

These burdens are just that, and make me uncomfortable.  However, I would not be without them for the life of me!  Oddly, I feel an immense pleasure in their existence.  The need to create, or to luxuriate in the creations of others, reflects an aspect of myself that I am, in all humility, proud of.  I love the fact that I am creative, that my imagination hasn’t been worn down to non-existence by Life.  I also love the fact that I have retained an appreciation for that same creativity in others.  This may sound peculiar but, I feel a great pride in others and their achievements, and often feel the need to share my enthusiasm for their creations with others.  It’s almost as if I have adopted them as family members.  So I am willing to pay the price for such feelings.  If I must sometimes feel burdened, then so be it.  It is, after all, a small price to be paid.

~ Steve

This entry was posted in Author, general, Imagineer, Novel, Short story, Steve K Smy, WIP and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , by Steve. Bookmark the permalink.

About Steve

An author since the age of 13 years, writing again dominates my activities. My "Imagineer-ing" blog is my primary site. Also: Beginner knitter since November 2010. Favourite knitting techniques: cable and lace. Beginner cross stitcher. Beginner jewellery maker. With the promotion of self publication and all the other work that has been going on here, Dad decided around 2am this morning (22/11/2013) that it was time to begin his next adventure. He was seen off earlier the previous evening by myself, my brother, my sister in law, and my sister, as well as his wife (our mum), and an enigmatic being known only as A Lorraine. After this time of story telling, laughing, crying, joking and mickey taking, we saw how tired both mum and dad were, and we decided to leave them under the (sometimes) gentle care of The Lorraine. When Dad found the timetable for his travels, he let Mum know gently, which woke her from her drowsing, then, with the same gentleness he showed in this universe, he boarded his favourite mode of transport, the Interdimensional Steam Train, and set off with a smile and a wave. For those of us closest, that smile was a reminder that his pain has ended, and the wave, an indicator that he will pop in to all those that knew him, from time to time. Usually at the most inconvenient and in opportune moments he can. While we are sad that he is no longer here, we are happy he now has no pain, and is experiencing more extraordinary things that his writers mind will be frantically weaving into a new story. Posted by Son Damien

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