If you couldn't tell from the bastardization of a lyric from the post title here, I am low-key obsessed with Hamilton the musical and think Lin-Manuel Miranda is definitely a friggin' genius. I'd not listened to the soundtrack since I saw the play in April (least humble brag, ever...), but for some reason it was on my heart heavy today. So I cranked it while at the day job and got my entire life. While I've listened to this cast recording 5012 times, today when Chris Jackson sang the original line I pilfered for this post's title (dying is easy young man, living is harder) I immediately connected it to my creative process.
I tend to take the easy way out ten times out of nine. I don't need that stinkin' easy button from Staples because I am perfectly capable of finding shortcuts, loopholes, and other means of skating by in order to achieve a goal successfully on my own. Writing a book however? You can't really do that. Well you could, but then your book would suck. And what's the use in putting out a crappy product for consumption when you're a nobody so it's not like it's easy money...what was I saying? I'm easily distracted.
Oh yes, I was saying...
These people. Bro. Bruh. Breh. Sis. Cis. They have taken me THROUGH it. When I initially talked to my friend Christina about this story it was supposed to be a short, maybe 10k words and it did not resemble anything of its incarnation today besides a couple of shared character names. It has evolved into this...thing that, according to some people, is kinda interesting and compelling. But making it so? It is the single most nerve-wracking thing I've made myself do in quite some time. My anxiety has anxiety about this damn book being released unto the world.
But it is a thing that must be done, so I am coping.
Barely...please send rosé gummies and/or champagne to help ya girl.