Sunday, April 29, 2012

Writing addiction is like...

...well, nothing else, really. The fact that I'm back here like a smoker sneaking another cigarette in a back alley—not even daring to expose himself together with all those other pathetic nicotine addicts, who line the buildings at regulation distance from the entrances of the offices whence they are banned from polluting the air—is ample proof not only of my addiction, but also my personal lack of a spine, damn it!

Addiction to what one might ask.

But is it really writing that's the cause of the addiction? I do a lot of that anyway, since it's my job (I'm a techwriter in my day-job-life), so 'writing' per se obviously isn't what's missing. There's got to be more.

One of the reasons why I was giving blogging away was a lack of time, and that lack still continues to be a condition of my life. The other reason was that I realized that, in this universe of millions of blogs and self-important twits thinking that what they say ought to be read by someone I was just another self-important twit, who was thinking exactly the same thing.

So, what's changed? Because I still don't have the time, and I'm still just one self-important twit in a chorus of millions! (Of course, what I have to say actually is more cogent, important, incisive, perspicacious, momentous, helpful, word-shaking, etc etc, than what the other millions of twits think they have to contribute to the world—but let's leave that little detail aside, because it's actually irrelevant and won't make a sparrow's fart of difference to anything. Still, I felt that it required the briefest of mentions.)

What's changed? I had an epiphany or two—caused, no doubt, by deciding, about a year ago, that I wasn't going to do any writing (story telling) anymore. That was the starting point anyway, because you have to start somewhere, and maybe starting at the point where you make the dumbest decision ever is a good one. For I should have known better; after all I'd tried 'giving up' before, and look where that got me: into writing eight complete novels, and starting five more. Plus over a dozen screenplays, plus an actual film, plus plus plus. An interesting consequence of a, quite genuine, intent to withdraw from writing in particular and story-telling in general.

I'm going to talk about my epiphanies in the next blog, but first I wanna say this:
  • To anybody who ends up reading these words, for whatever obscure reason (for the most, probably accident or maybe a link from StumbleUpon):

    Hope you get something out of this. If you're a writer, I hope you get something more out of this, because maybe there's something here that's been niggling in the background of your mind, too.

    If you get nothing out of this (a distinct possibility), please feel free, without fear of offense, to exercise your option to vote with your cyber-feet and go read one of those other millions of displays of logorrhoea littering the www. Just remember that opinions are like assholes (everybody's got one, and in truth it's probably not a case of assholes—of which most of us have only one, though many are just one giant walking asshole—but of pores on a human skin, because everybody's got a gazillion of them): they usually smell, mostly not very good.
  • To anybody not reading these words:

    There was a time when I might actually have cared whether you read my blogs. I don't anymore. I'm doing this for me, and the motivations are not unrelated to something I'm going to discuss in my next blog (because this one's already getting too long). So, to all of you who will never read a single word I've written—or maybe just read a few and said/thought to themselves "no f...ing way am I going to read any more of this trash" or something along those lines: good riddance; I've got more important things to do, and I have vastly more significant obligations in my life. Some of them, as I shall explain later, are to people who don't, never have and never will actually exist as 'real people'; the latter being far more epiphenomenal as far as I'm concerned. 
Enough for today. Gotta get my thoughts into order, so I can explain to myself why I'm addicted to story-telling—which is what it really is all about, and 'writing' just happens to be the chosen medium, because it happens to be the most convenient one for me.