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Cutting away all that is unnecessary in life is hard. The hard part comes when one must decide what is necessary. Sometimes activities you love to do fall into the “unnecessary” category, and that makes life difficult.

Right now I’m culling activities, obligations and possessions so as to maintain a singular professional focus: to finish a novel. This means I have to give up my “online presence” for a while. Doing so makes me nervous, because I feel like it’s my only professional avenue. In other words, it’s keeping my foot in the door in case I ever do need to get an outside full-time job. (Probably I should question the premise that my only lifeline should tragedy strike is to have a solid online reputation. For some reason, though, I’m steeped in the Internet myth and can’t let go of that belief.)

So I have to put faith in … in … what? Put faith in the belief that “things will work out”? Put faith in myself? Sure I can finish a novel but all evidence shows that novel will go nowhere. It won’t make a career for me. Plus, the thought of being known as a fiction writer kind of skeeves me. Every artist I’ve known well has been inept at life. I don’t want to join their ranks. (Again, I should question the “artists are losers” premise, but that prejudice is so deeply-seated in me and our culture that I’ll just have to work with the delusion).

I wish more stories were told about how life sucks for The Great, like how olympic gold medalists are lonely most of the time or how many horrible hours Richard Branson spent questioning his failures and himself. I want to hear stories about how going for a major life goal actually SUCKS ASS most times, and that there are damn good reasons why people don’t pursue them. the sacrifice stories would do more to help me sacrifice than the success stories.

Anyway. The long and short of this is, I need to stop allowing Facebook, Twitter and other binge-snack sites to splinter my concentration. I want to be of singular purpose, at least for a little while. I don’t know how to live the life of an strategy consultant and a fiction writer at the same time. I’ve failed at one or the other at any given time. And if a Destiny Gun was held to my head right now, against all logic, all my best judgment and all things sacred, I’d still choose the noveling. Idiotic. Stupid. Useless. I know.

But a gal can dream…