Update 52 - On Juggling

I’ve resonated with the idea of being a “jack of all trades, master of none” for most of my life. I get fascinated by something and I absorb everything I can on it- I dabble for a while, and then I move on. Coding, Languages, Instruments, the obsessive focus on one author’s work for weeks or months at a a time, gardening, biking, basic practical skills- there are many broad strokes I find interesting and each on of those as other branches to follow. The result is sometimes sensory overload.

So I try to prioritize. I have my handful of lists, and a set of goals for what’s important. The writing work, my family, my work on paying off my debts, all of that seems the most important. I can juggle those three alright, but when the larger balls break down into the smaller, I sometimes drop them. There are many people who juggle and take no interest in the balls that are dropped. They fumble an interest or obligation and replace it with another one almost immediately. I can’t do that with certain things.

Some balls can’t be juggled forever. Some smash on the ground and can’t be replaced. Some you drop, and they roll away, and sometimes you find them again in your flailing and balancing. I think of my writing hobby, which I’m trying to make a writing job, as a silver ball I’ve had for a very long time. It’s dirty and imperfect, but it’s precious to me. The older I get, the less interested I am in juggling all the others, because that silver writing ball has always been a consistent comfort. It’s escapism and creativity, it feels like my soul’s own purpose.

I know I’m at a point where I should set down that silver ball, clean it up, and start my routine again. My goal for this year was 10,000 words a week. Between spending my usual writing time editing my first book, or else trying to make the freelance jobs catch on, I’ve fallen behind on that weekly goal by about 70,000 words. And that offsets my mood on a gut level. My goals are difficult some days, but not impossible. And this one goal, this half a million words in a year- it feels like the real show. It feels like a good measurement for the work at hand.

I’m a juggler with many many pretty balls and knives to toss hand to hand. That silver ball is my favorite, and I am desperate to keep her in the air.