Blog Dis
It bloody well has begun again...
2025-02-20
I am a writer, yes, which I've openly admitted to being on numerous occasions but what I don't speak about is the masochistic tendencies of writers. I feel like a glutton for punishment because this week I plunged into writing chapter 2 of my eighth novel, after settling on the first chapter which took me three months to lay down. If I don't feel at peace with the start of a new novel, I can't press on, and I'll stick with chapter one until I feel absolutely comfortable that I've tucked it safely away in the can, so to speak.
Yes, we writers are masochists, to be sure. We are a happy, brutal lot of people who feel that life isn't worth living unless we function with a crap-load of pressure on our shoulders. Beginning a new novel is supposed to represent a happy time, a time of fresh starts and new ideas, a time when there is little regret or despair because there's not enough of manuscript written to chide yourself for having written a poorly conceived story. I must be a masochist for persisting, right? Of course I am! Would somebody please spank my bare bum very hard with a red hand that has been kept in the freezer. Ouch!
Like most things in life, I feel there are two kinds of everything, that is to say there are two kinds of guilt (the kind people place on you and the other kind you place on yourself - the worst of the two) and there are two kinds of sleep (the good and the downright shitty kind) and there are most definitely two kinds of pressure (the kind placed on you by an organization or others and the pressure you place on yourself). Arguably, some would say the pressure placed on you by others is by far the most intense because it means you're expected to dance to their tune when it suits them. But I would disagree. I think the pressure you place on yourself is the worst kind of pressure. That would probably explain why many persons are purposely lazy and forgetful because they innately know better than to place undue pressure on themselves when all they have to do is spend time with their partner, the bare minimum with their employer, or to ignore their bills. But because I'm a writer, all the pressure has to come from me. After all, Indie authors are not given deadlines by any of the TPBs (thieving publishing bastards) and therefore we have to make up for any deficiencies.
I had a delightful conversation with a longtime friend who told me a story about a young woman who was misdiagnosed by a physician treating an eye infection and was rendered blind because of a mustard poultice applied on the infected areas. She did not sue the idiot physician but rather adopted the attitude that it was the best thing to have happened to her because it meant she could now devote her life to simple pursuits like writing poetry and would no longer have to contend with the regular pressures of seeing the whole entire world. Wow! This is what I call a stunning personality and life outlook.
There is no mountain too high to climb or valley to low to get lost in, so long as you welcome the pressure of the exercise. And with these thoughts in mind, I shall look forward to my self-imposed workload of writing a new novel and tell myself that I shall welcome the challenge.
Now where did I leave that fresh bag of extra-dark and brooding chocolate-enhanced coffee beans?
Yes, we writers are masochists, to be sure. We are a happy, brutal lot of people who feel that life isn't worth living unless we function with a crap-load of pressure on our shoulders. Beginning a new novel is supposed to represent a happy time, a time of fresh starts and new ideas, a time when there is little regret or despair because there's not enough of manuscript written to chide yourself for having written a poorly conceived story. I must be a masochist for persisting, right? Of course I am! Would somebody please spank my bare bum very hard with a red hand that has been kept in the freezer. Ouch!
Like most things in life, I feel there are two kinds of everything, that is to say there are two kinds of guilt (the kind people place on you and the other kind you place on yourself - the worst of the two) and there are two kinds of sleep (the good and the downright shitty kind) and there are most definitely two kinds of pressure (the kind placed on you by an organization or others and the pressure you place on yourself). Arguably, some would say the pressure placed on you by others is by far the most intense because it means you're expected to dance to their tune when it suits them. But I would disagree. I think the pressure you place on yourself is the worst kind of pressure. That would probably explain why many persons are purposely lazy and forgetful because they innately know better than to place undue pressure on themselves when all they have to do is spend time with their partner, the bare minimum with their employer, or to ignore their bills. But because I'm a writer, all the pressure has to come from me. After all, Indie authors are not given deadlines by any of the TPBs (thieving publishing bastards) and therefore we have to make up for any deficiencies.
I had a delightful conversation with a longtime friend who told me a story about a young woman who was misdiagnosed by a physician treating an eye infection and was rendered blind because of a mustard poultice applied on the infected areas. She did not sue the idiot physician but rather adopted the attitude that it was the best thing to have happened to her because it meant she could now devote her life to simple pursuits like writing poetry and would no longer have to contend with the regular pressures of seeing the whole entire world. Wow! This is what I call a stunning personality and life outlook.
There is no mountain too high to climb or valley to low to get lost in, so long as you welcome the pressure of the exercise. And with these thoughts in mind, I shall look forward to my self-imposed workload of writing a new novel and tell myself that I shall welcome the challenge.
Now where did I leave that fresh bag of extra-dark and brooding chocolate-enhanced coffee beans?
