Treat Your Passion Like Football
One of Ezra’s passions is American football. Every Sunday night, it’s on our family calendar, literally. He sent me a recurring invite.
It starts at 8 or 9 pm here, and no matter what else is happening, he’s there. Izzy and I spend the night in her room since the TV is in ours. He stays up, cheers, groans, and texts friends. He might watch the “early” games and call it a night, or if it’s his team playing, he’ll wake up at 3 am to catch a late game live.
He doesn’t reschedule football. He doesn’t move it to when it’s convenient. Football happens when football happens.
And I started thinking: what would it look like if I took my passions that seriously? If we (women) all took our creative “hobbies” that seriously?
It’s hard to treat writing, or any creative pursuit, with the same urgency as a job or a live broadcast, especially when it doesn’t come with a paycheck or a start time. But what if we did?
What if, once a month, once a week, once a day, we carved out a time slot that might not be ideal. Maybe late at night, maybe early morning, maybe after a long day doing the things that pay the bills, and we just showed up anyway? What if we protected it the way Ezra protects his football?
I’ve gamified a hundred other things in the name of making them stick: decluttering, gardening, crossword puzzles (evidence), language training, parenting. But not my writing—the one thing that’s been with me longer than all the others. I was a writer long before I was a mother, a home maker, a member of the employed club.
I have a distinct memory of writing a play inspired by the books of teen thriller author, Christopher Pike, when I was in 6th or 7th grade (6…7 for those of you also cohabitating with members of Gen Alpha). I actually don’t recall writing it as much as distributing photocopies to my friends to act out as we chilled at my grandparents’ pool.
One scene involved someone being pushed from a rooftop, and I remember sitting on the roof of the cabana house pushing, or being pushed, or pretending at the least. There’s no point to me telling you this except to prove that I have been writing before any other self-prescribed role appeared in my life.
So it’s time to make it official. To put it on the calendar and, more importantly, to treat it as unmovable and uncancelable as a football game.
Maybe we need jerseys, or at least hats. Something that says I’m part of this. I show up for this. I’m on the team. (I cringe thinking of walking down the street in a hat that says “Writer.”)
Passion doesn’t wait for perfect timing. We have to create the time and space for it. No one else will. Yet, we wait as if someone is going to magically show up and say “Here it is, Darla! Your perfect writing zone. I am making it your number one priority. Isn’t that so great of me? You can’t do anything but this for the next hour. You’re welcome!”
So, what if the key is to treat writing (or painting, or singing, or whatever your “someday” passion is) the same way sports fans treat game night: as sacred, scheduled, and non-negotiable.
Even if we’re tired. Even if it’s not convenient. Even if we’d rather doom scroll, read a book, wash the dishes, or even clean the litter box (anything to avoid actually achieving our dreams!).
Eventually, it becomes part of who we are. Over time, it stops being a choice. It’s just what we do.
The question isn’t “Do I have time?” It’s “Do I care enough to make it sacred?”
