Do you '
feel' the music? If you're trying to force that into yourself, then it may not work.
Unt vat vould Herr Sigmund say?
< perhaps if I insert a few smiley-faces here, it will lighten this up a little >
You know that music cannot reside in your Id - but should reside in the Ego like fine wine, good food or a trophy wife.
Without a modulated desire, (there's that Super Ego) you will have troubles keeping centered, and since you're not earning a living playing bass at the mo, you might not get to your plateau in a year, but burn out long before getting there.
I like the 'learn under intense pressure' idea, but I'd rather play in a new-founded band and try to grow with them as a learning experience before I'd take on such an odious task as forcefully learning bass on a strict schedule.
With the job market the way it is and NZ seriously behind the curve yet and not as bad off as the rest of the world - you may not be fully aware that musicians aren't getting the gigs like they used to. It's not that Kiwis aren't aware - they just aren't in the mainstream of places like the US/Europe where even busking isn't paying and the usual on-ramp beggars are giving up
asking with cardboard signs and instead getting a ski mask and a gun.
You DO understand that you have to eat - right?
If you take your strength (literature) and run with that concurrently with your passions (bass playing) and try to get them to co-exist, you might be better off. It will always leave a stronger desire to play if you aren't up to your earballs in timetables.
But beware, as a professor's chair in Middle English specializing in Chaucer's Mysterious Sabbatical may not be a bread-winner for long either.
Play bass like there's no tomorrow and you
might will burn out on it too. I'd be afraid of taking the sweetness out of a talent by force-feeding it to myself, if I had my druthers.
I wish things were different, but reality is cold - although in days past, a starving artist was a quaint reminder of passionate, iconoclastic people on the fringe of society. Today, he's just a guy in line for a hot and a cot.
Sorry to get all Maudlin on ya in an Aldous Huxley-way............ but times are different.