Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Why You Shouldn't Be A Writer
Because really, if you're considering writing as a "hobby", or maybe you're a new writer trying a hand at things, stop where you are. Drop your pen or your computer or whatever. And run. Do as much as you can to get away from it, because once it has you, it'll never let you go.
It's ruined my life. It'll ruin yours.
You know those ridiculous medicines that have a list of side effects as long as the Mississippi River? Writing is one of them. It's almost a kind of dope. And the list of side effects includes:
Dreaminess, lack of attentiveness, obsessive bouts of staring at a blank computer screen, possible stress symptoms, cramped fingers, headaches, nausea (from the chocolate), lack of sleep, trouble sleeping, long showers, possible back problems, eye deterioration, possible social issues, and it's very possible to catch a psychological disease only known by its acronym: NaNoWriMo.
So get away while you still can. Never, ever write. Why? Why even ask? Why would you ask "Why not?" before jumping off a cliff or running to hug some random lion or throwing yourself into the penguin pool at the zoo? Writing will ruin your life, I assure you.
I've lost DAYS of my life because of writing. No doubt I'll die at the age of twenty, blind as a bat, without the hearing benefits, because I've blown out my ears with soundtracks.
It's an addiction. You need to get away from it. I'm already mired, there's no hope for me. I'll probably end my days with a pen in my hand, head on a computer keyboard.
Just keep going, they'll tell you. Voices of friends, bah! I can tell you which shoulder the voice is coming from, and it isn't the angelic one.
Just keep writing, you're doing fine, you'll end up fine, you'll love it. That's the sick thing, you end up loving the very thing that has you enslaved. I can still see through it, but I'm slowly going down. My day is approaching, the day when I won't have this mental clarity. I'll be a speculative-fiction-writing zombie from the movies. Night of the Living Writer. It's a scary thought.
You see me as Dr. Jekyll, but Mr. Hyde is on his way.
You'll be stuck to your couch, your wrists superglued to the computer so that you'll never get away. Heed my warning. You're still young and innocent, you can get away.
It reminds me of that Doctor Who episode. But those stupid people were like me. They went in when the walls had GET OUT scribbled all over them. Silly people. But now I'm mired: my head is above water, but I'm about to go under and be reborn as some dripping, sadistic writer.
Please, blog readers, I beg you. There might be hope for you.