I assume there’s some truth to
all that work ten thousand hours bullshit,
that is, if you work ten thousand hours at tennis,
you’ll beat Roger Federer on his home turf.
Certainly the idea of it gives the stolid among us hope.
But methinks ten thousand hours, or more hours,
of tennis won’t astronomically improve my game.
Might just wear me out. To think of the arts,
and to think of how I couldn’t ever quite cut it
as a novelist, and how I had always
found the going tough writing novels,
had found the editing process especially hard work,
when it should have been enjoyable hard work,
or why else do it, sort of thing,
I actually believe in my heart of hearts
that who you are needs to align with what you do
before you invest everything of yourself
in a project for an hour or ten thousand.