Eventually, Someone Will Pay You
I am writing this from a little pub resting under the shadow of Edinburgh castle, and reflecting on something a mentor of mine once told me. I was bemoaning my belief that the world was antagonistic to artists. The starving artist motif ever present within societal conversation, the “oh, and what are you going to do with an English degree?,” the “minor in something you love and major in something that will make you money,” the push to follow a common path.
I have never been one to follow how things “should” be done or to believe what people my age or older tell me I ought to do. Perhaps this stems from a deep anti-authority complex. Perhaps it is simply an acknowledgement that the dreams I had/have, the life I believe I deserve, and the general state of my heart have never fit into a pre-defined box. For all those voices which advised me, albeit with genuine care, to look into more “realistic” pursuits or who were willing to set aside their time to help me work through a life plan full of compromises, thank you, but, kindly, step aside — you’re blocking my view.
As I sip on this pint of cask ale from a friendly, sweats-wearing bartender, I hear the echo of my mentor saying to me,
“if you do something well enough and for long enough, eventually someone will pay you to do it.”
Sure enough, he was right. I am on a writing fellowship in Europe all because I kept doing something long enough, and, I’m told, well enough, that my work was deemed worthy of investment. If my younger self could step into this room with me, he would, like St. Thomas, ask to see my hands, would peak behind the bar to see if Ashton Kutcher were there for what must be an episode of Punk’d.
But, even though I doubt it a bit as I sit here, someone is actually paying me to be here, to live and eat and drink and exist in another place solely because they believe that sending me out will improve my writing and broaden my imagination. This is not a game show. It is not a dream of a younger me existing in an unattainable future. This is real, and someone thinks I am a good investment. Not sure how the ROI works out on paper, but it looks pretty good in my book (the ale may be giving me a bit of a bias).
Though my time and energy is spent exploring and on my poetry, I thought that putting together a little blog space would have its own benefits — 1) to let my family and friends know that I am indeed alive (hi mom), 2) to catalogue experiences and create a little trail to follow, 3) to give myself a separate space to process/connect the ideas that have been (and no doubt will be) occupying my attention as I maneuver unfamiliar places. My goal is to post roughly 2–3 times a week. A post or two as a diary of the past week through photos, descriptions, and memories, and the other as a pseudo-essay on whatever topic I have been exploring in my other writing and projects.
While I wish you all were here in person, I hope this will allow you to be present in spirit. Feel free to comment on the posts, ask questions, shoot me an email, or reach out on twitter or instagram. (Twitter: willturner_docx / instagram: zachturner.jpg)
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Cheers!
