This entire post is just me talking and asking a million questions.
Does anyone ever feel soul-crushed by the weight of available information at our fingertips at this very moment? I could spend the rest of my life just soaking up the knowledge of the world, through whatever medium (be it books, what have you) and never create a damn thing.
I often lament on my wasted time and in effect end up over-analyzing myself and wasting more time. Is it wrong to view one's available recreational hobby as "precious"?
Does anyone here believe in that pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo involving 10,000 hours of practice makes one proficient? I've always considered it a gross-over estimation in an attempt to be vague and precise, but still can't shake it's validity.
What eats at me most, and stays my hand when I begin to type, is - hmmm
Does anyone slip into droughts of depression, in terms of writing? What I mean is... is it illogical to not want to write if it won't be remembered hundreds of years from now? Of course, at the start of your "career" or -journey of the quill- you still have much to learn to reach such levels, but where do people find the drive... or inspiration to continue? Is it merely the pride through one's accomplishments? The desire to better yourself in literature? Could it be so simple...
When you look through the hall of the "greats" the field of choice doesn't matter, they all share a common trait. They all started at a very young age. It's a sort of mysticism that's begun to surround artists, that at a young age even if they didn't know that was their path, they were compelled my some unknown force to create; beauty chose them to be its creator and they followed wistfully in its wake. Am I and others handicapped by default? It would seem luck and nature are working against me.
Then there's the matter of life experience to grow ideas, by which I have very little in comparison to some. Can imagination simulate events or experiences through an authors telling? Are authentic first hand and second hand even comparable? How can you sit down to write when you've never stood up to live? That may have come off as superfluous, but is always a lingering thought of mine. Do you have to live events that are analogous to the subject of your material, in turn tying your work in with reality? ... I suppose history contradicts my statement.
This is ignoring Fiction of course.
Another topic I'd like to touch on is how we're ever evolving. Let me explain, you see we're (by we're I mean college students) introduced to material that was cutting edge not that many years ago. Over time, with each passing decade and soon to be century we as (knowledge sponges essentially) have more and more catching up to do, before we can apply what we know to advance ourselves in some way or form as a species. Be it Mathematics, Philosophy, so on.
Will we hit a snag? A point in which the time span to teach a person all of humanities repertoire in a given subject will overcome the usefulness of their input?
Practice leads to mastery, genetics give a person a head-start. Will only prodigies have a place in society in the distant future? My imposed questions float about meaningless if we continue down the destructive path we're on anyway. Mark my words, we will be our own undoing, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. I ramble...
Anyways, i know and understand that making millions off book sales and becoming internationally famous/beloved doesn't equate to being successful. Being published just seems like such a distant goal that it's difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Can anyone relate this sentiment? People also have a nasty habit of luring you into a false sense of security, mostly by lying to you and complimenting where it has no place. No doubt making them feel warm and cozy inside and boosting your self-esteem, but it's not REAL. This is one area this place (by that I mean this forum) has no troubles, the advice and critiques found here may or may not be accurate, but atleast it's honest. Having reality slap you in the face is not a fun time. People seem to love hyperbole when dishing out non critical compliments these days and it's because no one gives a horse's ass about hard work; only natural talent.
Welcome to Generation Narcissus. Everyone dies alone.
I'm almost finished and I applaud you if you made it this far. Can one attain wisdom without reading? Are the two synonymous? Do you need to gain perspective on other's to become educated to the point that you can make rational decisions and create something worth offering to the world?
Mood and your emotions transcribe themselves to every facet that you touch. Do sad people with conflict in their lives lead to superior content, as opposed to happy people? Hardships are relative and a hypothetical ordinary life is difficult to describe, but I hope you understand the gist of my question.
Perception intercedes between reality and ourselves. When we interpret events before us, the imagination is engaged. Can we ever have access to objective knowledge of reality? Does one's mundane day to day upkeep influence our perception? This isn't a very radical stance (albeit perhaps nonsensical, but I'll say it anyway) but perception -as defined by the organization of sensory information- and imagination are closely related when it comes times to spill ideas. They're like a married couple. A person's "world-view" is the catalyst by which they create and articulate their message, what scale do other's have to grade someone on the worth of their writing?
I ask as many questions as a five year old to a parent I'm sure.
If our works we wish to relay to the world lack the grandiose magnitude of say ... Harry Potter or The Shining or something along those lines, does it have literary merit in this ever strong competition to be heard? We're always striving to attain our Magnum Opus, but I can't help but wonder if it'll all be for vain. I find it difficult to analyze/criticize others in any amount of depth... like, I can say I liked (This) book or short story more than (This) but when it comes time to explain WHY, I grow silent. No doubt this is my fault and something I need to improve on, organize my thoughts better, etc
Just felt like blogging I guess. Feel free to pick apart any random segment and address it with your thoughts, just trying to spark conversation really. No burning bridges here.