About What We Think About

Post 1367:

As a guy who has written countless words, fiction and nonfiction, I know all about being full of myself. It is the height of conceit to believe anyone would ever find anything I put to paper interesting or entertaining.

I do it anyway.

Not out of pride, or some form of rebellion against conventional pursuits. I don’t think so, at least. I’ve never been a particularly proud person. Too many shortcomings for all that. Too many obvious ones.

It is a compulsion. Or an endemic propulsion. There is nothing new under the sun, but somehow I can feel a new way of thinking or expression beckoning to me. Could be total bollocks. Ralph Waldo Emerson said a man is what he thinks about all day long. If that’s the case, I’m a writer. One who wants to write well.

There may be a day when the compulsion goes away. At times, I wish it would. Creative pursuits are not more important than anything else. Not inherently. They do take a toll. And time. They require big sacrifices for sometimes infinitesimal gains.

Do I think about hanging it up? Do I think I’m crazy? Do I think that life would be a lot easier if I could just chill out and stop trying so hard to be original or witty or clever?

Of course I do. But mostly I think about writing. So I guess it’s on with the words. Blah, blah, frigging blah.

Cheers and see you after.