It's natural to want things to be easy, because there are so many other things we have to do. The wealthiest and most important man in the world could come to you and say "Hey. I need you to do something for me. It's going to take you years, you have to work very fast, you'll be stuck inside most of the time in very uncomfortable positions, and you'll have to nag me to pay you. P.S., it has to be magnificent and I'm not going to let you say no." You might be polite and not laugh in his face, but would you take the job?
Pope Julius II said that to this arrogant, crooked-nosed sculptor from Florence who didn't even consider himself a painter. And it worked; between 1508 and 1512, the sculptor covered more than 3,200 square feet with over three hundred figures, nine scenes from the Book of Genesis, all while painting very quickly on wet plaster, often in odd positions and tight spots. The results changed the way art would be painted for centuries and ultimately became one of the most recognized artworks in human history.
What would Michelangelo have painted if the Sistine Chapel had been an easy job?
Every time being a writer is tough for you, it's teaching you something. It's testing you, too. This gig is a marathon, not a 100 yard dash. As you jog down the writing career road, you'll notice a lot of abandoned partial manuscripts tossed in the ditches. Those were written by everyone for whom the job got too difficult. They packed it in and went home to watch TV.
Right now I'm arm-wrestling a proposal that wants to grow seven heads and become a three-tiered series. I will tame it into a manageable pitch that doesn't scare the hell out of the editor. I have fantasized about taking a baseball bat to this machine at least five times today. Dell needs to have a warranty option to cover work-related temper tantrums.
But that's my Sistine Chapel of the moment. What's yours?