The Writer’s Life
December 11, 2011 § 2 Comments
This is John parlance for saying “I’ve not been writing much in the past week”. And it feels good.
Yes, you may ask why I would do that. Isn’t that, well, the opposite of what I should be doing? I’m a writer. Writers write. They don’t faff about playing Skyrim and going to work at a store: they write.
That is true (unless I’m the exception that proves the rule. In which case, hah), but I’m finding that writing is far weirder than that. It’s not exactly something that I can pull out of a hat, like my retail work. It’s pretty easy to go to work: if I don’t, not only do I not get paid, I have someone who will be angry, confused, and calling my cellphone trying to find out where I am. Writing comes, but sometimes writing goes, and when it goes it’s gone.
It doesn’t help that I’m the sole arbiter of when writing happens. When I don’t write, the page stays blank. No calls, no anger, there isn’t even necessarily, and sadly, a loss of income. Some days, yes, I do feel unfulfilled, but not all the time. Some days, it’s hard enough just making it through the day that to go home and make something, to keep working just isn’t in the cards.
I’m shaming myself before Dan Wells, who managed to write his books at night, after work, and with kids in the house (that man is scary), but these days, I find that I have less and less time, to the point that sleep is routinely being shaved off my schedule. For those who do this regularly, you know that at some point it’ll catch up to you, or lifelong misery will follow.
In the end, though, it’s possible to slip it in here and there if I’m really so willing. I just regret that it sometimes feels like a chore. I love it far too much to want that, even as I also realize that it won’t all be flowers and sunshine.
Of course, if I had my way, I’d write for about 2-3 hours a day and then play Skyrim until my eyes bled. And we can’t forget that, failing that, we will always have the internet. Forever.
In other news, I like to occasionally update what I’ve recently read and what I’m reading. Forgive any repeats if you see them, because I certainly don’t care to go back and check what I’ve said before. And while I’m not going to review them here, I can give a thumbnail sketch of one or two in the comments if you would like.
Last month(-ish)’s tally in no particular order:
Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mocking Jay, Suzanne Collins.
The Blade Itself, and Before They Are Hanged, Joe Abercrombie.
The Name Of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss.
Leviathan, and Behemoth, Scott Westerfield.
Two-way Street, Lauren Barnholdt.
On the go:
The Half-made World, Felix Gilman.
Yes, Barnholdt was hella girly. You want to fight about it? And I highly recommend the Leviathan series because it’s basically my Master’s paper with steam-powered mechs and flying whales. READ IT.