Worth

Starting to write about my writing has gotten me to think about worth and value. In particular my worth and value.

I say I want to write and I want it to be so important and compelling to me that I can't not write (as I've heard is true for some artists and craftspeople about their mediums).

But the voices in my head (normal mental "tapes", old "shoulds" and "don'ts", nothing psychotic, at least not yet ;-)) tell me that I have to do something "productive", and outside of the writing that I do for my work and a few technical articles I wrote years ago, I don't have much to show for my writing (I did have a story published in my high school newspaper and I did win that literary essay contest in college).

Does "productive" only equate to financial remuneration? If it doesn't contribute directly to the "bottom line" of daily living, is it worthless?

I hear the voice of my grandfather (my mother's father, who grew up during the Great Depression). He impressed upon me the necessity of doing something worthwhile; which to him meant putting food on the table and a roof over your family's head. Personal preference and desires were of little importance.

He was a very practical man, he appreciated art and literature (at least that produced prior to his birth) but seemed to look askance at the lifestyles followed by many artistic types; I think he felt that someone who made their living doing something so "frivolous" was somehow cheating.

If I genuinely want to do this with my life, then I need to get past these old preconceptions.