"When you aren't in school, you should be working. Getting money."--John (paraphrased)
I do a lot of stuff by feeling. Writing especially. If things feel right, I go with them. If I come to a spot and I find that I'm trying too hard for the words to come out, often I find that means I'm doing something that doesn't fit. Usually I'll plow through, come back to it later. But a lot of the times that means a hang-up of hours, or days, or months.
I spent November revising a story. This morning, I metaphorically put it in an envelope, slapped some stamps on it, and a return address sticker with an ostrich chicky on it, then put it in the mail. (Metaphorically did the first three. I put the return address and the mailing address on't a week ago, and the stamps on't last Saturday. Only mailed it today. Waited for the weekend in case I forgot anything.) It is done. I have a feeling. Not only that, I have begun thinking about, like, other things. OTHER THINGS, I tell you. Last night, I imagined this short story in two or so parts about cool stuff, and...and...and this other one I can't remember. But the point is, my instincts tell me that, for now at least, this story that I sent to a magazine is well and truly finished. I have no nagging doubts about its content, and I cannot think of anything which I should have changed.
A calmness and clearness of mind that could be dashed to insecure nail-biting in half a sentence by any of the group, no doubt. But it feels nice now.
What does that have to do with John saying, "Go, grift for money,"? Nothing whatever. I'm motivating myself to get a job.