Are You… A Writer?

Are You... A Writer?

Oh god.

Oh my god.

I am- I am SO sorry.

I mean like, does it… does it hurt? I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never… 

Well I-

Wait a minute.

Wait just one bumble-fudging minute. 


Am I…?

Oh for god’s sake. I’m a writer too, aren’t I? 


Ah well, I guess I don't have to feel sorry for you anymore. 

Nevertheless, my apologies brethren. 

Shall we begin with our rituals then?

Ok, I’ll go first. 

My name’s Sky, and I’m a alcoholi-

*Wild applause*

Shit sorry, writer, I meant writer. Really gotta stop doing that. I’m a writer. It’s been exactly 3 days and 43 minutes since my last story. 

*Somber nods of encouragement*

Well, we’re gathered here today to address a topic a few of you have asked me to taint with my words. It’s an interesting if somewhat subjective question, so I thought it was worth a post. (And yes, I’m aware I’ve fallen off the grid again for a while. Apologies again. I was kidnapped by a horde of angry goose-wielding yet surprisingly polite 1920’s Canadian gold-miners. Long story.) 

Just kidding, had about a week long blackout. Woke in Europe, treasure map, amnesia, blah. Boring.

Nothing new.

Anyway, writing’s hard, so why write at all? 

Easy, three words.

Abdominous. Acatalepsy. Aeropleustic. 

Now, I’ve no idea what any of those words mean, but I’ve heard wondrous things. On a more relevant note, writing’s about escape, ambition and enjoyment (plus like a billion and one other things). 

To begin with, writing is for many a person a simple means of escape. Which is not to say that writers live dreary lives, in fact the psychedelics often see to the opposite (man, here we go again…) but there’s none-the-less something about this place that occasionally needs escaping. Sounds stupid, I know, but for the surprising majority it’s actually quite true. Many lifelong and prominent writers laugh at such a question and say it’s easier to answer ‘why breath?’ That’s not the case for all of course, some of us understand why we need oxygen, but for other people it really is. 

Granted, they tend to live in caves, fear the sun, and only ever interact with bartenders, but we -cough- I mean ‘they,’ obviously, are technically people.

Dammit Sky, pull it together! They’re beginning to suspect...

But I mean everyone’s got their thing right? Swimming, running, fishing, cow-tipping, whatever. Writing does for some people what taxidermy does for others. 

(Shit, I don't know, what do normal people actually do?)

So this probably shouldn’t come across as too strange. 

I will admit that some writers may take it a step further and uhh, well, ‘devote’ themselves, but the notion stands all the same. Writers are of course prone to the crazy by nature. It’s the evolutionary defect. 

And that very elegantly leads us into the next topic, ambition.

Now this here is an interesting one. Ambition may not be one of the first words to come to mind when you think of a stereotypical writer. In fact, it’s probably second to last, followed only by ‘sober,’ or maybe ‘conscious,’ right?

Man I know, I know, I’ll stop with the rather dark jokes soon, I promise. 

But after some debating I came to the conclusion that ambition was in fact a very good word to talk about. One of the many things that drives a lot of people to writing is the dream of seeing their work succeed. It’s not something as many will own up to, but I believe it’s true. Writing should never ever be about success alone, to do so would ensure only empty words, but on the same hand, without ambition your work is likely never to leave the typewriter. 


‘Computer’ you say? 

Uh yeah, obviously, that’s what I meant. Slip of the tongue. I totally got me one of those digital hi-fi clickedly-clackedly machines… 

Cave? I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

“Beep… Boop…”

My concerning seclusion aside, ambition is truly a key part of why some people take to writing, for more reason than one. Foremost, writing is in itself a manifestation of ambition. It’s the very picture of setting a goal (a VERY distant goal) and chipping away until you reach it. I can think of few things more ambitious than beginning a real project of writing. It’s terrifying, it’s faraway, it’s difficult, its tiring, its frustrating, and yet for some near-primal reason it’s necessary. Required. Vital. Perhaps the ambition would otherwise reach a point of explosion (very messy, writer bits everywhere), or maybe too long jonesing without that escape leads to a literary meltdown (also very messy) but ambition seems to feed that need to escape and vice-versa. 

Which is all to say that ambition is surprisingly why some people take to storytelling. Having others read your work is a powerful thing indeed. (So thank ya.)

And that leaves us with enjoyment. 

That thing some people do.

This one should probably explain itself but lo-and-behold I’m still here so I’ll walk ya through it anyway. 

Once again, we’ve all got our things. 

Some people climb trees, others ride dogs, and there are even those that… ugh, I always have trouble with this one.

The thing where people flap their legs. Sometimes in the sun… 

Running is it?

And the sun… It’s yellow…?  

I knew that. 

Yes, I know the sun well. Because I frequently visit the outdoors. 

Home stretch, don't lose your shit now man. 

Moving on. 

We all enjoy stuff (getting real deep here guys), and for some people that stuff just happens to be writing. I’d even dare to say that when it comes to most the ‘feeling’ goes past the simplicity of enjoyment, but that’s a discussion for another time. 

In today’s world there’s literally millions of ways to ‘enjoy.’ Most of them make very little sense to me (it’s this ‘running’ thing folks, freaks me the hell out) and even more of them require so little effort or commitment that it’s frightening. The ‘rewards’ are spoon-fed into our mouths as we slowly enter into holy matrimony with our couches. Real storytelling though seems to be the one rock of enjoyment that refuses to budge. In fact, it’s the one rock that hoists itself up by its Lederhosen and runs blindly forward, not away (it’s a German rock). Writing is absolutely enjoyable, but it’s not easy, and yet despite the tremendous amount of alternatives, it’s something so many of us still do. It’s because, though we may not all realize, we are all very deeply in love with words. We love the rewards of the writing process itself, not because it’s easy (because again, it’s not) but because we truly enjoy being the architects of our own worlds and work. 

So when you cut through the layers of bad TV and all the other shit we have to make us smile, there’s one thing we’ve loved to do since the very beginning, and it’s not going away any time soon.

What a time to be alive, eh?

So I realize I just basically wrote 1400 words saying nothing of real substance, but you guys asked for it, so this is on you. 

Yes, all of you. 

Actually not you, Alfred. You’re alright. 

Hopefully there were some words in there you recognize, maybe even an actual sentence or two. Let me know which particular thoughts you nodded contently along with, and which you furiously and violently disagreed with. 

Now, I’m off to go test this ‘fresh air’ theory and maybe even the leg-flapping thing. If I don't return my friends, you know it’s all a trap. 

There will be no more delays of great significance either! Blog posts shall be popping up every couple of days again, so please continue to offer suggestions. We’ve even a few interesting surprises in the works for you fine folk too. 

Until then, my good people!

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