What if I no longer want to shoot for the stars?

Why I'm devoting more time to mundane moments

At the 2019 Ake Festival, I hung out with some of my most favourite authors and artists from all over the world. The first two days were filled with so much excitement from meeting people whose stories built homes in my heart and stayed. At one point, I sat with Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi and listened to her tell me about her writing journey. 

For years, she’d been writing (She started writing Kintu in 2003). And then in 2018, she won the Windham Campbell prize, which transformed her career from novel debutant—Kintu had been rejected several times for being “too African”—into a literary colossus. 

Years after the festival—and every time I hang out with other creatives—I’ve shifted my thoughts from the accomplished creators to the young and up-and-coming. I wondered if, like me, they’ve spent time riding the line of hope and fear in creating their art, if they feel like their dreams could take off or nosedive at any given time—how long can they wait? 

Do they ever wonder about the odds of their work blowing up and giving them satisfying careers?

I’ve always had big dreams — after all, motivational speakers say if your dreams don’t scare you, they’re not big enough. When I was 18 years old, I read Americanah and decided I wanted to become a writer. I started to dream of writing stories and winning awards. At 26, I should have been the author of at least one bestseller. 

We’re groomed to build our lives around work, to drive self-esteem from the works of our hands. Affirmation culture’s first point of call is, “I sabi this work.”  Maybe this is what growing up means: viewing our ability to hustle as the ultimate admirable trait.

We’re adulting in a time of dream culture. Confidence culture. Comparison culture. We’re living in a time the prevailing advice is to “hustle oh” so that [insert circumstances] will not happen to us, to pursue our dreams to the detriment of all other desires. Our lives consist of us carving escape routes from mundaneness. We’re supposed to have those dreams, chase them with everything we’ve got, and not veer from the paths we’ve chosen no matter what. We’ve been groomed to see ambition as the North Star so much I now wonder how easy it is to define our self worths by the size of our dreams. 

What if our wildest dreams never come true? Do we spend our whole waking lives waiting for the one life-changing moment we dreamed of years ago?

For me, 10 years ago, I hoped I’d be a successful, world-conquering author by now. I’m not. And as I get older, I wonder if we’re allowed to permit ourselves to adjust dreams and expectations. Are we failures if we don’t live them out? 

I’ve had varying sizes of dreams, but I’ve often discovered they don’t offer as much satisfaction as I would have hoped. I once dreamed of getting commissioned to write in a reputable legacy publication, and then it happened. I once dreamed of leaving home and striking out on my own. It happened. I’m currently in the middle of that dream. I once dreamed of building a career from writing, growing an audience, and getting paid decent money. It’s happening.  

But while I am grateful for these actualisations and proud of my achievements, they don’t often offer me that lasting enjoyment, nor do they change my life like I thought they would. Each time I get commissioned, for example, I enjoy the thrill for all of five minutes, then I keep it moving. 

We ambitious people are always striving for more, so much we often miss out on the lives we’re living in the moment. Stay too long without a big win and self-esteem nosedives into the mud. Go for a stretch without checking off a deadline dream and existential doubts creep in. I receive an acceptance email and get happy for five minutes. I get a rejection email the next week, and I suddenly feel worthless. The feeling of worthlessness lasts a lot longer than the elation.

—And then imagine your peers moving out and travelling the world while you’re still stuck in the trenches but said friends insist you’re special. But I digress.

Dreaming big can be a gift, but dream too big too much and we stand the risk of those dreams becoming distractions. It’s one thing to keep eyes on the prize; it’s another to let said prize distract us from experiencing smaller joys.

But this is not to say ambition isn’t important. It is. Big dreams provide us with inspiration, with direction, with structure, with identity. They prescribe possible destinations and set us on our way. But I’m choosing to balance out my big dreams with small satisfactions. I’m teaching myself to see my life as a great journey in progress.

Too often, we ambitious people get carried away by all the things we’ve not yet achieved, all the expectations we’ve not yet hit. But when I wake up in my king-size bed, in my apartment, paid for by my hard work and sweat and incremental achievements, it’s the clean morning air that gives me the deepest satisfaction. 

It’s the satisfaction I feel when I’m standing in my kitchen cooking a meal I love and pouring myself a dry red after a hard day’s work. It’s the satisfaction that hits me that I’m alive, and when I go to bed, I’ll wake up the next day with another shot at living those big dreams—dreams that might still be far, far away. But I’ve survived dreary seasons and harsh weathers. I’ve braved arid lands and walked on my knees to get to where I am. 

Does this mean I’m giving up on my dreams? No. It just means while I shoot for the stars, I’m also permitting myself to enjoy this small mundane moment.

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