You Better Work

 

 I have one thing to say,

You better work.

Rupaul, "Supermodel," 1993

Early in my relationship with Chris, we adopted an expression, intended to be used in relation to each other, that was as much funny as a warning.  And that expression Rupaul sings at the close of his hit song "Supermodel." 

You better work.

Before Chris, I'd had enough experiences with gay men in general to know that a number of them look for free rides (no pun intended) from the men they're interested in.  There are plenty of gay men out there willing to let someone else do all the work, so they can have all the fun.  Fortunately, at the time, Chris and I were both employed, in secure positions.

 

Even now, if we think the other one is slacking off, taking the easy way out, not pulling his weight, we'll haul out the old expression and use it again. 

 

You better work.

 

Over the years, these three little words have had a lot of applications.  They still encapsulate how we feel about someone, anyone, not doing his fair share, expecting things to happen without any effort on his part, so he can have all the fun and take all the glory.

 

During summer, one of my favorite TV shows is "So You Think You Can Dance" (although don't get me started on some of the changes this season, including the Street versus Stage teams, not renewing Mary Murphy's contract as a judge, bringing on the ditzy Paula Abdul, and giving a judging position to Jason Derulo–will he have anything of value to say?).  As I watch this show, particularly the rehearsal videos, showing how hard the dancers work to master the routines choreographers give them, what comes back to me again and again is this:

 

You better work.

 

It applies to me in a lot of ways, and I continuously remind myself I cannot expect to get a free ride.  In many ways, I must continue to add value.  That's just the way it is.  That's the way it should be.

 

But this expression also applies to my writing.

 

Sometimes, when I'm in despair, I ask myself over and over again why writing is so much work.  Why do I have to go through all this to achieve what I want to?

 

Because.

 

Because I do. 

 

Why shouldn't I?

 

Why should I think writing a novel, and making it the best it can be, should be any easier to accomplish than what the dancers on "SYTYCD" have to do to learn and master routines?  Or what athletes have to do to earn a position on Olympic teams?  Or what anyone has to do to be the best in the world at something?  It shouldn't be.  To accomplish what I want, I should have to work every bit as hard, as anyone who struggles to make something happen.   

 

No one gets a free ride.  Or no one should.  

 

So I'll continue to remind myself "You better work," because I better.  That's the only way to get anything done–anything worthwhile, that is.