I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Toking

Writing is like smoking. It's something a lot of people do, and some aren't proud of it. It's something that at first you're going to do in secret. Not everybody does it well. As you get better at it and stop choking all the time, you start doing it out in the open. Eventually you just don't care who knows that you do it.

Most of your family will try to dissuade you from it. They'll tout the health hazards, that all writers are known drunks and will die from it. Or they die from suicide. With love they'll implore you to quit before it's too late.

You'll start with a few hundred words a day, or every other day. You'll only do it socially, maybe a witty blog comment. Eventually you'll move on up to three thousand or so words a day. You just won't feel right unless you get those words out. And you won't care if anybody else is around. Then you'll start skipping social gatherings to get the words down. You'll write with the door closed so nobody will see you.

Being a writer means you're a social pariah. The rest of the world may accept you into what you'll call your "day job." But soon you'll find yourself huddling with other writers, out in the cold, just to get away and get your fix. You'll take little breaks at work, nothing big, just like other people have a cup of coffee or lunch with friends. Instead you'll be writing. You'll miss calls, people will ask where you've gone. And when you go back to normal society you'll reek of writing. You can't wash it out of your clothes. It gets into your hair and skin. Even using soaps with high perfume levels, someone standing close to you will be able to detect the scent of writing pouring from you.

Not everybody can be a writer. It takes a certain aptitude to start off, not everybody has that. There's a short adjustment period as you become acclimated to writing. This is where peer pressure comes in. They'll tell you to just try it one more time. It'll be better the third time around. And by your fourth ride with that monkey on your back it's too late. You're hooked.

There are also small skills one has to learn to master the art of writing, and once internalized you don't need to think of them openly. Your hands will automatically hover over a keyboard in perfect position. You'll search for the uses of "was" in manuscripts almost automatically.

Just like cigarette smokers have their brands, so do writers. Only you'll call them genres. And you'll stick in your genre as best as possible, enjoying the smoky flavor. But if you need that fix and you're out of your genre, you'll bum anybody else's to get that buzz. Sure, you'll long for that cool menthol of high fantasy but you'll suck on the harsh unfiltered memoir if that's all you can find.

You'll start denying yourself other things to continue your writing habit. You'll justify these deprivations with, "I only need to do this for a while, and then I can write whenever I want to." Food, friends, going out and having a good time will all be secondary to you so you can stay at home and write. You won't buy that gallon of milk, but blow you're last five dollars on reams of paper.

And then you'll know. It's got you hard, baby. You'll fool yourself by saying you can quit anytime you want. Ken Folliet quit after writing four novels. There are quitters all around you. But you know it's too late for you. You need that hit in the morning, after meals, and right before you go to bed. You're hooked, baby, and it's set deep.

If you're able to break your writing habit, you'll always think about writing. If you're around other writers you'll feel the itch that only hypergraphia can scratch. You'll find yourself getting into the same habits again. Going into stores and seeing blank pads of paper (lined or unlined) you'll feel that need. Your hands will involuntarily start making circle movements, plots and characters will enter your head unbidden. And it's only a matter of time before you start up again. It'll just be one. You'll stop after one.

Then, once you do it again, you'll realize that this is what's been missing. Like the best lover of your life and you get to cheat with her all the time. Once you're a writer, you're always a writer. You can only stay in recovery, you'll never be cured of it.

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