We’re all on the Titanic. You know it, I know it. We’re all taking that final ride. Some trips are longer, some shorter. First class, third class—take the analogy as far as you like. But somewhere out there is a lousy chunk of ice with your name on it. Sure.
It’s easy to wait until you run head on into that iceberg. It’s the easiest thing to let life’s dirty, little curves just happen to you. You wait for it, then you respond. That’s how the average schnook plays it. Leave yourself to the whims of fate or chance or to whatever roll of the dice happens to come up. But you’re not average, are you?
Happenstance. That’s a disgusting way to operate. You can’t avoid it altogether. You break a glass, you break a tooth, you break an alternator. If you’re given lemons, pucker up. Sure. Deal with it and move on. But if you’ve got something inside you, something important to do, you better get to it. Don’t wait for life to prove to you what you already know: the clock is ticking.
In the original 1937 “A Star is Born,” Esther Blodgett’s grandmother puts forth one honey of a statement. She instructs the wannabe starlet to dismiss anyone who threatens to break her heart: “…go right out there and break it yourself.”
What are you waiting for? A better time? A new computer? A change in the season? A little inspiration or a good night’s sleep? A better tomorrow? There’s no better time than this very moment. Tomorrows are just as elusive as infomercial promises.
Start now, do it now, complete it now, and start the next work. Make time for that novel, that poem, that short story you’re busting to put down on paper. Push it, force it, demand it of yourself. Don’t wait for a wake up call.