Imagination was given to man compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is.
As I grew older and reality trounced my dreams one by one, I began to live a little more inside my head. Perhaps, my imaginings helped me cope with my failed dreams.
But living inside one’s head is not entirely a bad thing. It was in imagining what could be that I discovered my creative side. Not just in writing but also in art. You could say that after years of allowing my left brain to dominate my life, I let my right brain kick in, and I’ve never been sorry for it. My imagination led me to a side of me that I was not aware I had.
But what I am and what I do now require a good sense of humor. Art and writing are both hard-sell efforts and I often wonder why I do them.
Uncertainties did not plague me quite so much in my old profession. If not necessarily more precise, science has better articulated standards for what is acceptable or, at least, reasonable. In contrast, so much in art and writing is subject to personal tastes and opinions, that you’re never quite sure where you stand or whether anybody cares a fig about what you produce.
You need a great sense of humor to preserve your ego from self-doubts and the buffeting it will surely get when you put your work out there.