It’s Plowing Time Again: Ruminating on the New Year, a New Idea, and the Unknown
I will never be known for decisiveness or conviction outside my professional dealings. Never have been. Even if I feel it, I’m probably going to stay quiet and question it. No, I don’t draw lines in proverbial sand. Gambles are not for me. Leaps of faith? More like falling dreams.
All of which is to say, I deal in self-doubt. I don’t even know why I’m typing this right now.
But hey! It’s a fresh year and baby steps and resolutions and blah blah blah.
* * *
Neil Young’s “Field of Opportunity” square-danced through my head on January 1, apropos of nothing. Rather than kindle feelings of promise for the new year, the man’s opening lyrics struck me as ironic. Amusing. As if he was resolved to—maybe at peace with—treading water. Which I could identify with.
Above all, I connected with the honesty of his lines:
I’ve been wrong before
And I’ll be there again
I don’t have any answers, my friend
Pretty fitting for the first day of a new year at a time when our societal bearings are not just loosening but threatening to zip off in disparate directions. I don’t know what direction I’m currently going, either—professionally, creatively—or where I might be headed as this year begins to tick along. Or if I should steer somewhere disparate myself.
There’s a lot to second-guess on both the personal and the macro level. The former is nothing new (see above), but the latter’s anxiety-inducing state adds a new and complicating layer. Am I unsure about things because of latent COVID brain fog? Because our government is toppling in slow motion? Because my son is nearing teendom? Because I’m tiptoeing toward crisis-inducing midlife?
Or is it just because it’s how I’ve always operated and it’s getting more confounding with age?
That’s a lot to wonder about, so I’m focusing on the personal creative part for now. The writing part. The dream-day-job-writing part.
There’s that novel I’ve finished. It’s with people I trust. I know very little about what any of them think. May never know much more. Or they might all eventually tell me they didn’t get it, hated it, wished they hadn’t wasted time on it. (Hey, as long as it’s honest feedback, that’s okay.)
But I don’t know how long to wait before just hopping to the if-you-thought-waiting-was-maddening-just-you-wait querying phase. Which would be a true gamble and leap of faith. Also likely stupid, but I argue it’s a better course of action than doing nothing at all for an indefinite amount of time, which could be, effectively, forever.
Right?
It seems Uncle Neil was happy to wait awhile as his fields invisibly germinated in “Opportunity”:
There ain't no way of tellin'
Where these seeds will rise or when
I'll just wait around till springtime
And then I'll find a friend
In the field of opportunity
It's plowing time again
Shit, now that I’m re-reading those lines, I’m (half) convinced he’s right to allow himself time to ruminate on his “pile of old questions.” And now I see, as I never did when listening to the song, that, sure, he’s harvesting “seeds of sadness,” but he’s already looking ahead. He’s already partially over the heartbreak and seeing himself on the next rise. He’s optimistic amidst the uncertainty.
That’s the key. Doubt is fine. Hesitation is natural. But don’t forget there’s a springtime ahead. That, at least, is as certain as anything can be. And that might be enough.
* * *
So maybe I wait on that query stuff. In the meantime, I’ve got seeds germinating, too. I have another novel in mind. Building an outline for it. Thinking a lot about it.
Assuming I go through with that and finish a second long piece of fiction, it might provide a matching, underwhelming bookend to the first. I might not get anyone to read it. Or I could get some discouraging (but honest!) feedback. But no matter what, I’d have accomplished something.
And I can worry about its fate later.
Thanks for listening to me think out loud. I believe I’ll just plow on now.