The Question of Concentration

Last night I received an email from my Senior Editor.  I have a Senior Editor.  I wish to hold this feeling within me forever.  To fill a small bubble of time with this sense of wonder to inspect even as I begin to lose it.  It fades, moment by moment, simply because the seconds tick by.  If I try hard enough, could I remember how this feels next month?  Next year?  At the end of my time on this earth?  Will my attempts to hold to it merely make it fade faster?

It took a few tries to reply to my editor.  As I tried to answer her questions, my mind would drift.  To wonder.  To fear.  To the myriad things I needed to get done.  It was as though my mind was shying away from taking another step down the path I’ve been dreaming of following.  I find myself re-evaluating so many tasks based on the fact that I’m finally starting my career.  I don’t want to spend as much time on silly projects when I can focus on my next story.  I want to focus and, at the same time, I’m afraid to focus.

Dichotomy.

 

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