Friday, October 28, 2011

Wanting Darkness

William Saroyan said, "I do not know what makes a writer but it probably isn't happiness."
And I know that to be largely true. I can write, the words just seem to come, when I'm sad, upset, annoyed, stressed, avoiding things, heartbroken, angry, frustrated.
At that point, it doesn't matter if i'm working on TUCS or drafting a piece on an ad campaign or even ranting like this.
And strangely enough, when I'm happy- I love to revisit my thoughts, I love to edit, but anything I try to write- it lacks soul.
Maybe its because I once read somewhere that when you're happy you want to go out and feel things, you don't want to stay boxed up at home, in a dark corner furiously typing away and generally cursing. You don't want that familiar rush of excitement that fills you when you know you've written a brilliant sentence, because that rush- that's already present in every cell of your body.
You don't want to feel the anxiety you always suffer from when you take a breath to stop and read what you've filled up the page with. You don't want to grumble about how slowly you're typing because the words just seem to be flying out of your head and you're terrified you're going to forget or let go of a precious thought.
You don't want to get mad at yourself, your mind for distracting you.
Writers are broody. Its a moody thing. It makes you dark, grumpy and annoyed. It makes you crib.
When you're happy you want to go out there and fly- and then, you're so reckless that you don't even care, you don't even worry about the fact that you might fall. You want to go out there and sing songs like a musical about the most mundane things- eating toast and drinking a cup of coffee in the morning suddenly becomes so beautiful. And you don't care about who you annoy in the process.
When you're happy, you can't write- you can't pour your soul out on a piece of paper.
So my writers block- is happiness.
And I can't quite decide what I'd like to have. 

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