It’s funny because it’s true. If you agree it’s because you know.
If we were to talk about the elephant on the page, what color would it be? The funny truth so succinctly portrayed is that writing is a consuming obsession.
The man in the picture may have at least two obsessions, two powerful habits that impact his life and perhaps those around him, but why is it that only one of them is generally acknowledged as a bad habit? Only one of his habits has a tried and true twelve-step program that has been adapted and adopted by other quitters of other bad habits and depravities. Yes, he can find support and counseling for his addiction to alcohol and even his compulsive gambling. But his compulsive writing? All bets are off.
His inclination, (he might say destiny) is to seek other writers, (some might say enablers). Unlike the group he met with over his other addiction, this group is not at all alarmed for him when he admits to voices in his head. “Write on!” they say. They are not concerned when he admits to not attending fully to his day job, the pay job, because of his preoccupation with writing. They nod and smile knowingly when he talks about a recent all-nighter when he wrote pages and pages of gibberish. “There’s some gold in there,” they encourage. “Glean it, spend another night or any stolen time and revise it. Write on!” They all joke about their wild antics, writing on napkins in restaurants, about looking as if they are taking notes in meetings when really they are drafting a novella that just came to them. They all know first hand that writing is a distraction to the lives they are expected to live. They know that it is highly unlikely that writing will ever improve their finances. Yet they applaud our pictured writer when he admits he’s thinking of leaving his day job (the pay job) so that he can attend more fully to his writing addiction. “Yes! Go for it! Write on!”
I ask you, dear Writers, why are writers not taken in hand by their loved ones and committed as other addicts might be, for their own good? I imagine you’ll tell me something about discovery versus recovery, but please do tell me.
Reblogged this on The Write Stuff.
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Ha! This is a great one, D. I’ll be pondering the answer to your question all day. Or maybe much, much longer. In my case, I think it’s because my husband likes seeing me quietly occupied in another room, leaving him to his own devices for hours on end. Suits him, and I guess it suits me. 😀 But truly, it is one of those lifelong addictions that you either frustrate yourself by denying, or lose your mind completely by jumping in feetfirst and never resurfacing again. (Of course, it might have been an easier choice for me, since I didn’t have a day job (the pay job.) 😀
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Maybe you’re finding your mind by jumping in? Maybe…
Sounds as if you and your husband have a perfect arrangement.
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Good point. I’m pretty sure I did lose my mind years ago, and you could be right that I’ve only found it again since I started writing. I’ve examined it thoroughly, and it doesn’t seem too much the worse for wear, probably because it didn’t get much use all those years it was lost. I’m making up for that now, though, as I sit here pouring words out onto the virtual page every day, communing with fictional people who are usually more entertaining than real ones, and traveling in make-believe worlds. All in all, I think I’m ahead of the game. 😀
And yes, my husband and I have a system that works surprisingly well these days. 😀 Even as I type, he’s drinking coffee in the living room and watching reruns of movies that weren’t all that great the first time around, while I’m sitting in the library staring at a whole different kind of screen. 😀 OH, well. At least at the end of the day, I have a book (or six) to show for my addiction. 😉 That’s gotta mean something, right?
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It’s what we all tell ourselves. Of course now you bring up the anti-social aspects of this peculiar addiction.
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😀 😀 😀
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🙂 Very funny to read through, D. Since I can relate (yet also am an introvert), I smiled aloud several times.
You know that our loved ones don’t commit us because we’d scribble stories across the padded walls with our toes.
There’s nothing stopping us but a house payment. May as well embrace it.
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You’re right. Write on!
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog.
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Awesome!
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👍😃
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Every word you have written here is true. Others don’t have us committed because they are in awe of people who are dedicated [or foolish] enough to write stories. People do view writers with a high regard.
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Well that’s some good news! Thank you for sharing it.
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Something else is needed with the other addictions (alcohol, drugs, some one with whom to gamble, have sex).Writing is truly solo, it costs as little as a pencil and notepad, it doesn’t damage one’s vital organs and if you use a pencil there are no risk of stains… I think they are wise to let us stay put in our quiet little corners
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Ha! There it is. A cheap, harmless, stain free addiction that keeps the antisocial scribblers out of the way of the normal rabble. Thank you for that.
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Pleasure. I did wonder if it was a touch on the John Waters side of humour…
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Can’t say, not knowing. Yeah, so I googled him. I’ve heard of some of those films, never saw them. (I don’t get out much) But here I am.
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They are, um I was going to say an acquired taste but since they are the epitome of tasteless that didn’t work.
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Reblogged this on Jeanne Owens, author.
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Cool, thanks.
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You’re welcome!
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Hehehe. So profound. So true.
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I. Can. Stop. Anytime. I. want. I just don’t want to.
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Then don’t. We. Don’t. Want. You. To. Either. 🙂
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