why I write

I don't know if I can answer that. When I'm sitting there looking at a blinking cursor, willing words to come that have no interest in being typed, all I want to do is throw my computer out of a high building and never write another word (write, type, whatever). Trying to scribble down a thought that might be something or might be nothing,  a thought that refuses to be tied down to the page, I've snapped pens before. So why continue to do it? I'd love to make some money doing it eventually. . .or rather, I intend to make some money doing it. I know that statistically speaking it's unlikely, but I've always distrusted statistics. Probably something to do with having a maths teacher who would correct my work with his too-soft hands, leaving chalk dust all over my notebooks. Ugh. Anyway <he says, shaking himself back from distant memories>, I've somehow managed to convince myself that one day I'll make a living as a writer, and not be tied down to one place. I'll be able to travel the world, periodically sending in work to an agent, and not miss out on important life events of friends and family. Wedding in Australia? No problem, the flight will give me time to edit my latest work. You want to go to Oktoberfest with me? Well, it has been twelve years since I last went, and it's a brilliant place to people watch.

But I think the truth is, I enjoy it. Surprisingly enough, for something that's so close to schoolwork, I enjoy writing. Never liked it in school, but now I don't have to do it, I find myself wanting to do it. And in the past, what, two years? that I've decided to write, it's changed me more than I would have thought probable. Every random little thought, almost as soon as I've had it, I wonder if it would make a good story. I see people on the street or in the casinos or at the airport, and I think about them as a basis for something. I pick apart my own life and think about which parts might work for a story. And now, instead of having run out of things to write about, I'm almost worried that I won't have time to tell them all.

I think about the phrase "we've all got one book in us," and can't decide if it's true or not. Maybe on average everyone does, but that means people like Neil Gaiman and Stephen King are probably using up other people's stories. The bastards. Having said that, and being currently in the middle of editing my first novel, I know for a fact that this isn't the one book that I have inside me. This one, and I'm intending it to be the first of a trilogy, is more just to see if I can do it. Can I keep my short little span of attention focused long enough to actually write something worth reading, or publishing? So far yes, and keeping my one book for down the line I haven't blown my load straight away. Premature authoration sounds like a terrible thing. The knowledge that I have another, better book waiting to be written is good to have.

So I, who have never tried harder than I had to, who fought for years against attempts to get me to do homework, enjoy writing. I know I have teachers out there who would love the irony of that. But to quote one of my favourite authors, 'writing is the most fun anyone can have by themselves.' It is fun. I get to play God! When writing, I can create a world, characters, and elevate or destroy them on a whim. I can revisit events that I never got to experience, and even host my own events. It lets me escape from the world and my life, and helps me see it more clearly sometimes. It's a cheap form of therapy - I'm opposed to paying someone to listen to me run off my issues, cos I already have a pretty good idea of what they are. Writing is an outlet much more satisfying than playing video and computer games. It's as open ended as you want it to be (Robert Jordan. . .), or you can move on without even stopping to pack. If you haven't tried it yet, seriously. Open your word processor now, and just start typing.

Focus

I hate wearing glasses. That's a lie. I don't hate wearing glasses, but in Vegas the glass buildings have a tendency to throw the sun at you from every direction, so I keep my sunglasses on permanently when I'm outside or in the car. I sometimes keep them on inside too, in preparation for my movie-star lifestyle which is supposed to start any day now. But wearing sunglasses makes it harder to wear regular glasses of the designs I favour-- specifically picked to play down the roundness of my face and be covered by insurance. So I tend only to wear glasses when I'm at home and not planning on going out that day, and stick to contacts the rest of the time. Or rather, the contacts stick to me, cos I tend to sleep with them in. For weeks. I know, I know, I'm not supposed to do that, but the older I get it seems the only way to get me to do something is to tell me I shouldn't. If anyone had said to me 'Rich, you should sleep with your contacts in' when I first started wearing them, I'd be taking them out every night. Whether contacts or glasses, either way if your eyesight needs help you're going to wake up in the morning and things are going to be a tad blurry. Couple drips of fluid, or put my glasses on, and I can see! I just wish I could do that with my life. I'm looking at it, and everything's slightly blurry, cos I don't know what to focus on. There's my job with Cirque, which has the potential to be a proper career, but I already feel like I've had a successful career here. There's BNTA, and bringing Panto to Las Vegas which is going well. Then there's my writing. What to focus on? I know I should be editing my first draft, but there's all these other things I want to write. I stated another story a week ago, that I think I might make into a novel. There's the very first idea I had that WILL be done one day, and I feel guilty that I haven't done more than a page, but on that one I know now is not the time. I've got two screenplays that are on the go, should I be working on them? The eight short stories would definitely benefit from a little TLC, should they be my focus?

Bollocks. I suppose it's better to have too many things on the go than too few. But it would be nice, just for a week or two, to know exactly where my brain is. And it's even harder to know what I'm thinking right now with the impending doom that is my 30th birthday. Maybe a drive out to the coast is in order, although SoCal isn't my ideal coast for a little soul searching. I'd want to travel to Cornwall for that, there's some gorgeous spots that my Dad took me to when I was still living in England. Gurnard's Head or Porthcurno are just what the doctor ordered right now, assuming I'm the doctor and I'm allowed to self-medicate. Gods I crave being out there, walking the cliff tops bundled up against the wind as it pulls you this way and that, the sound and smell of the sea. We'd go out there, my Dad and I, trying to spot the Peregrines that lived out there. We saw them a couple of times, but more often than not the buggers wouldn't show up.

No chance for quite a while yet. Too much to do. Thinking about it, though, writing about it here helps. No matter what I focus on it's pretty clear to me that I have to do it all, so I can have time out on the Cornish cliffs. If I don't get it done before, then instead of enjoying the spot I'll be too busy still going over the same old bullshit in my head.

Hey, thanks doc., this has been a good session.