I wondered if doing something difficult is hopeful…

My friend Mark sent me a comment on one of my blog posts, out of the blue, and then subscribed to the blog. So I wrote to him that I’d better write some more posts.

Since my last one in November I have been a bit preoccupied with writing a book on solution-focused practice for social workers, and will be for a while longer. I am not finding it easy. 

I added in my note to Mark: “Every moment of writing in itself must be a moment of hope, even the ones that feel so damn hard, which is most of them.”

Thinking that every moment of writing is a moment of hope also made me wonder if every moment is a moment of hope, except that on reflection this seemed ridiculous. There are moments when terrible things happen.

I was reminded of something Philip Pullman said at an event at St Peter’s College in Oxford (where Mark and I met), part of its 50^th birthday celebrations in 2011 – the same age as me. It was along the lines of (he must have written this down somewhere, as it’s on the internet):

“All writing is difficult. The most you can hope for is a day when it goes reasonably easily. Plumbers don’t get plumber’s block, and doctors don’t get doctor’s block; why should writers be the only profession that gives a special name to the difficulty of working, and then expects sympathy for it?” 

I wondered if doing something difficult is hopeful, or implies the presence of hope, or might lead to hope.

I then remembered that in his list of characteristics of “workable” goals – in the context of the goals clients have for therapy – Steve de Shazer, the main originator of the solution-focused approach, included: involving hard work on the part of the client.

Maybe each moment of intentionally doing something difficult is a moment of hope. I was going to add, “that is worth doing”, but it seemed tautologous. Why would someone intentionally do something difficult, if it wasn’t worth doing?

I need to go and do a day’s writing now, and I hope it goes reasonably easily.