I feel a little responsible that spring has not yet arrived. If I mention the weather in my column, there is a 100 per cent chance that the weather will worsen; if I could monetize this unenviable power, maybe this could be something. As it is, for now I will take the blame for this extended hell and for that I sincerely apologize.
Culpability for this terrible weather aside, I wanted to talk about writing. In particular, I wanted to share a bit about my process for those who may be interested. I have been thinking about the act of writing recently because thinking about writing means that I am not actually writing and therefore my procrastination has been successful.
This last term, I took a creative writing class as a part of my graduate studies (and because it's fun) and I met a lovely woman who was on exchange at UNBC for a semester. We were fortunate enough to be matched up as peer review partners and when it was time to exchange our stories, she presented me with a 10,000 word story and I nearly cried. I was very jealous. I asked her if she had written it before class and she said that she hadn't but she just couldn't stop writing her story once she started. It was starting to affect her schoolwork, unfortunately.
"I hate it when that happens," she said. "Don't you?"
"I have no idea what you mean," I replied, sadly.
For her, words were like a faucet that she couldn't shut off.
For me, words skitter across the floor like silverfish in my old apartment when you turned on the light. When I turn on my laptop and open a new document, any useful thoughts or words I may have had evaporate in the harsh cold stare of the blinking cursor. Writing is fun. It is not all bad, of course otherwise I would never do it however there should be some middle ground between the prolific and unproductive.
I will share a story that Neil Gaiman told me (and four hundred other people at a reading I was at - it wasn't a one-on-one conversation): Neil (we're on a first name basis) was asked by an audience member if he found it easy to write his novels and stories and he shared two anecdotes about writers who were at either end of the spectrum.
He said that Douglas Adams hated to write so much that his agent would have to lock him in a room with nothing except for a pad of paper and a pen and only after 12 hours would he finally start to write, resentfully.
Neil then spoke of Terry Pratchett who could be locked in a room and have all writing instruments taken away and the agent would return to find that Terry has licked a novel on the walls.
Neil said he was somewhere in the middle. I am more on the Douglas Adams side of the spectrum, unfortunately. This was particularly telling while I was writing my essays last week. My fingers were flying and I was typing away and I would stop and think, "Wow! That was great! I must have written 1,000 words!" I checked my word count: 198.
Then, dejected, I would get up and make a sandwich.
When writing my columns, they are only easy if I have an interesting story or an angry rant. I try to amuse, provoke (if I'm feeling feisty) and entertain readers with stories that may sound familiar to other families who live in the north. Sometimes the words come easy, more often they don't but I hope that they will always amuse someone (even if it's just me).
