Like a pebble thrown at the middle of the sea, the deeper it goes the harder it’ll be able to see. Slowly but surely, it’ll end up lost in a pitch black, endless stream of waves.
“What’re you stuck staring blankly into space for?”
A man’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. His voice is similar to that of a rigid yet gentle man. Contrary to his voice, this man bore a rather pale, skinny, and clumsy physique. He more often than not spends most of his time in front of a screen. This man’s name is Christopher, my editor.
“Nothing much” I gave a rather abrupt reply, I’m not really in the conversing mood right now so I figured I’d give him a slightly indirect way of telling him that I didn’t want to talk.
“Still thinking about what to write?” He replied, I gave a deep exasperated sign in return.
It’s infuriating. Just purely, dreadfully, infuriating. It isn’t just that he didn’t understand what I was trying to convey, he also saw right through me. We’re currently in a beach villa in the far side of the city. Don’t be mistaken, this isn’t just some run of the mill vacation, I was stuck with my work and had absolutely no idea what to write and so I decided to get a change of scenery in hopes of finding some inspiration. But it turns out it isn’t that easy, despite spending days in the villa I’ve still got absolutely nothing to write.
“Why can’t you just write the stories that’re popular these days, like the reincarnation fantasy types” Sensing my dissatisfaction, he makes a feeble attempt at continuing the conversation. At this point I don’t really care if he keeps talking to me, his comment does spark a thought though.
Sure, if I wrote something that was popular with the current audience, I’d get a lot more sales and get to increase my brand. But would I really be satisfied with that? Plainly and humiliatingly jumping on the bandwagon writing something I’m not invested in for the sake of earning more money? No, I’m not that pathetic. I’d rather risk ruining my career as an author writing what I love than sacrifice my passion and time for some half-baked reason.
“I’d rather avoid that if possible” I replied.
“Shame, I was hoping you’d do it so I’d get an increase, you know” he said jokingly, or at least I hope he said it jokingly.
He looked at me curiously and proceeded to sit down and stare at the same direction I’m gazing at.
“Why are you so invested in improving, you’re already a talented writer. Why push yourself so much?”
Such a stupid question, I said to myself. It’s because I’m already talented that I’m pushing myself further. I’d push myself to my very limits just to gain even the tiniest of improvements.
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“Tell me, in a video game, if you were level 90 and the max level capacity was level 100, would you still push yourself to get to level 100 knowing that it’s extremely difficult to earn the last 10 levels?”
Christopher is quite into video games. In his times off he’d often spend his time playing role playing fantasy games. Knowing this, I tried to use video game logic to make him understand my point of view.
“Of course, if there’s remaining levels I could gain then I’m going to try getting it regardless of the difficulty” he answered.
“Exactly” I answered, “If you realize and understand that you still have room for improvement, you’ll continue to squeeze every single thing you can to claim that improvement. It isn’t a matter of wanting too or not, it’s something that happens naturally – An innate desire for growth and improvement.”
Although I can’t say it’s the same for everybody. There’s just some people content with what they have that they don’t bother trying to improve. For me on the other hand, it’s completely different. If I know I can still grow, even if only a little, I’ll give my everything to get that tiny sliver of growth.
After listening to what I just said, Christopher gave me an empty look. However, underneath his empty expression I could sense a slight bit of understanding. I sensed this but I continued to look blankly into space, maintaining my disinterested complexion.
Christopher, after closing his eyes for a moment, replied
“You don’t say, we’ll good luck with that. I’ll try my best to walk beside you in your crazy hell-bent journey for growth” He stood up, gave me a light smirk, tapped my shoulder, and proceeded to walk away.
I continue to stare into blank space for a moment before closing my eyes.
Like a pebble thrown at the middle of the sea, the deeper it goes the harder it’ll be able to see. Slowly but surely, it’ll end up lost in a pitch black, endless stream of waves. But within that pitch black, endless stream of waves lie a torrent of infinite possibilities.
Yes, truly. The deeper an author falls in the vast and seemingly endless sea that is writing, the harder it’ll be able to see, and slowly but surely the author will be led astray – no longer capable of writing with passion and happiness.
The life of an author is indeed a perilous journey. To dedicate yourself to writing.
To what do you bestow the honor of writing? For fame? For fortune? To express your feelings? To capture the emotions of your readers? To recount history? Nevertheless, to dedicate yourself to grow is to be lost in an endless stream of waves.
As I begin to drown in my thoughts, I let out a small chuckle, “How fun.”
Like a pebble thrown at the middle of the sea, the deeper it goes the harder it’ll be able to see. Slowly but surely, it’ll end up lost in a pitch black, endless stream of waves. But within that pitch black, endless stream of waves lie a torrent of infinite possibilities. Now, will I end up discovering the long-lost city of Atlantis, or will I end up lost and buried under the sand for eternity. Only time will tell.
As I dream of the possibilities that lie ahead, I can’t help but smile.
“Oh, how exciting”