How to Breathe While Dreaming

I tend to float and dance around the things that I must do. Deadlines are stones in my pockets, paperwork is an anchor around my neck and writing because I need to write is a pair of cement shoes weighing me forever downward.

And yet, writing because I need to write pays the bills. Deadlines are, obviously, necessary and important. Editing without paperwork is like breathing without air. I am living my dream and I lay awake at night.

Perhaps the grass is always greener. Perhaps I am never satisfied. Perhaps these are the glory days and someday I will remember them fondly.

I’m inclined to embrace the latter.

Still, I have never been further from the literary accomplishments for which I strive, and therein lies the rub. Such things require a firm stance and not the spin and dip of a drive-by tango. My lips have grown bloody from a mouthful of roses. Whiskey stings and lingers longer.

I need to spend less time writing because I need to and more time writing out of want. I need to want. It requires a tether and some discipline and a great deal of sacrifice.

It requires me to stay afloat even as I drop stone upon stone against the lining of my pocket.

It requires me to keep dreaming and to look forever upward. One breath at a time.