Writing = Meaning

I just read somebody else's blog about the sense of meaning that comes from writing, which is something I was recently thinking about as well. If you subtracted writing from my life, then I'd still have a reasonably full existence. I work plenty. One of my jobs is easy and sometimes even a bit fun. The other is often frustrating but also often rewarding. If I were to teach for the next thirty years, I'm sure I'd have what most people would consider to be a full life and maybe I'd even make a difference in the lives of some of my students. But I don't think it would really be worth it.

I was thinking the other day how tough it is to find time to write and how, despite writing and submitting my work for years, I have yet to make much headway into publishing my fiction. It occurred to me that I often feel frustrated with my schedule since I work two jobs and then think of writing as being my third job. I feel a certain amount of pressure to keep at it, but then when I write I think how I should really be grading papers instead. So the thought crossed my mind that maybe the best course of action would be to ease up on the writing, to put it way on the back burner and just think of it as more of a hobby that I fiddle with occasionally, but to face the reality that I might not ever get anywhere with it. But that thought was too depressing to consider for long. Writing is what gives my life meaning. Without it, I just feel like I'm some schlub who fills his time working a job that doesn't make a whole lot of difference to the world. There's nothing wrong with that kind of a life if a person is satisfied with it, but it isn't what I want. It would be easier, certainly, but what would be the point? What's the value of a life like that? I don't know. I'm sure many people are content with that type of life, and I can imagine there's plenty of pleasure there, but I don't know . . . it just seems pretty empty to me.