The Most Precious Resource

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Time is finite. Appreciate it when you have it.

Submitted: May 11, 2018

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Submitted: May 11, 2018



Time. It’s a precious commodity. I’ve always known this, but lately I’ve been seeing it with increasing clarity. I work a day job in addition to my writing, which means that a vast majority of my time is spent away from my laptop. During this time, of course, all I’m thinking about is writing. Also, I have all the normal, average, every-day mundane tasks that we all must go through every day—eating, cleaning, running errands. And then there’s all the time I waste sleeping—whose idea was that, anyway? (lol)

I read a blog post once, a looong time ago, by someone who lamented the fact that everyone is always wishing it was lunch, then wishing it was after work, then wishing it was the weekend. In essence, we’re wishing our lives away. Ever since I read that, I’ve worked very hard to not wish my life away. In that way, time is precious as well. We’re only given a finite amount, and once it’s gone, it’s gone!

There’s never enough time. Every time I hear or think that, I remember that old Twilight Zone episode, when the little man was celebrating the nuclear holocaust because it meant that he would finally have ‘time enough’ to read all the books he’d always wanted to read. And then he broke his glasses and ended the episode crying that it wasn’t fair, that there was time finally! Time enough at last! I wear glasses, and without them, I’m blind as a bat, so that episode had an extra chill to it for me. I knew just how he felt.

As a writer, I’m constantly wishing I had more time. I take every moment I can to write. I write on my lunch hour, and inevitably I’ll be right in the middle of some pivotal scene when suddenly it’s time to go back to work. I write when I get home and have to interrupt myself to make and eat dinner, then clean up afterwards. And, of course, the ultimate interruption—sleep. Most nights I end up having to make a choice: do I go to bed and get some sleep for work in the morning, or do I stay up and keep writing? Usually, the decision is made by what is going on in the story and how involved I am in what is happening. Either way, I end up regretting my choice.

One day, there’ll be time enough. One day, I’ll be a successful writer, and I’ll be able to spend my days doing what I love: writing. When that happens, I won’t waste any time wishing for lunch or quitting time or the weekend, because it won’t matter. I’ll write whenever inspiration strikes, no matter what time of the day or night. It won’t matter, because while time is still a precious commodity, regardless of what you do for a living, for the first time ever, it will be my time. It will belong to me. And that will be a wonderful day.

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