A Writer Writes
(A post from the archives)
Day 1 (of 30) So, I've come to the realization that I am boring. In November, I did a lot of writing. I had decided that if I'm going to do the whole writing thing, I need to stop playing so many video games and cultivate my own stories instead of living through others'. After November, I took a break from writing but promised myself I'd pick it right back up. This is me picking it right back up. The no video games rule is still mostly in effect, minus a brief interlude with the awful Other M. Instead, I have spent the last few months plunked down in front of the TV most evenings until bedtime. I know playing video games isn't much/any sexier than watching TV, but at least there's some interaction, some thought processes going on. After an evening in front of the TV, I feel like my brain has melted. Sometimes I feel entertained, but most times I just sit and watch when nothing is on. It's like eating a gallon of ice cream or watching really heavy fetish porn: fun while it's going on but heavy on the buyer's/eater's/viewer's remorse. Anyway, the point is that when I'm supposed to be deeper in my head finding my creativity, I just sit and wait to be entertained. Obviously, I haven't gotten any writing done, and I feel like something's missing. I've been shopping much more trying to fill this need to create. Every evening when I get home from work, I just look around trying to will something new to appear. Up till now, I've bought something from eBay or Amazon instead of pulling something out of my head and slapping it on paper. Last night, I started playing this pretty cool game Desktop Dungeons. This morning on the bus, I was brimming with ideas. Of course, as soon as I sat down at my desk, all creativity was shot to hell, but that 20 minutes of introspection on the bus felt pretty good. I'm not saying that video games are the solution since I can't just come home every evening and play, what with the wife & chores and everything, but I think playing something fun and cultivatable, but not the crack-like substances made by Blizzard, fulfills some small patriarchal need in me and lets the juices flow. Maybe it's the OCD that needs bedding down. Maybe it's my primordial fear of failure. I don't know, but something has been blocking me and keeping my brain mush. All of this is a really long story to say that I'm going to try a photo/blog a day for a while. That way, at least I'm writing. Maybe it will guide me back to my project before I turn 30. As Billy Chrystal said in Throw Mama from the Train, "A writer writes!"