I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more writing
FEBRUARY 6TH, 2016 — POST 33
This piece is pretty rubbish. Read yesterday’s instead. Or read this and realise why it is so rubbish.
And yes, the irony of writing a rubbish piece the day after wrtiting a summation of what I’ve learnt over the last month, specifically after concluding with “I’m going to tell more stories”, is certainly not lost on me.
I fucked up this morning. I’m starting to write this now an hour and a half later than I have been. I slipped. Instead of pushing through any desire to put off writing, I made myself a deal: leave the Medium post for later in the day and go and work on your script. Like an addict justifying myself one more hit, I jumped into the shower and set off for the café I hit on the weekend and where I do the bulk of my screenwriting.
This decision wasn’t a smart one. And it’s the exact decision I haven’t been able to make since quitting smoking. When you smoke, the cigarette break becomes an act of releasing a pressure valve. Any problem that comes up, a disagreement with my girlfriend, a crash of whichever program in the Adobe suite feels like it, or a fear of hitting the keyboard, all can be relieved temporarily by the compulsion to smoke tobacco. And then ten minutes later I’m sitting right back in front of a problem that hasn’t moved. Smoking just makes it okay to run away when I probably shouldn’t be.
Quitting smoking has cut off my legs. There’s an issue that comes up, no matter how frustrating, it has to be dealt with. I no longer have that escape, that out at any moment when I get even a little uncomfortable. Because in reality, the brief window of perceived solace offered by the cigarette is illusory — whatever problem I left behind to go smoke is there in the same capacity as when I fled. I just now have a bad taste in my mouth. I just now feel worse.
And this is what happened this morning. Whether I hadn’t fleshed out my list of potential topics enough, or I felt particularly vacant from sleep dept, I gave in to the voice you should never listen to. Even if you’ve never smoked, you’ll know this voice. This is the same voice that says snoozing your morning alarm is fine. This is the same voice that says “Just one more YouTube video”. This is the most bodily, animal voice you’ve got and one that thrives on instant thrill. As I said up top, I made a deal with this voice to put off a Medium post to get a jump on my screenwriting for the day. So, where’s the rub?
The café doesn’t open until 8, a fact I didn’t know because my usual routine would have me arriving after 8. It is currently raining outside, a fact that prevents me from getting to work outside nearby the café waiting for it to open. And when I finally found the place I’m now set up in, outside a supermarket because every other business is closed, I realised the problem was still there. Just like when returning to the path the cigarette provides an instant detour from, the issue hadn’t been escaped, only inefficiently delayed. Turning on my computer I couldn’t open up my screenplay and get to working. Not only had I not solved the problem I set for myself each morning, that of writing a Medium piece, I now had another problem in that I hadn’t solved the day’s first problem.
So that was all too much to bear. And now I feel okay. And now I can get to screenwriting. And now it’s almost 8.
And now I’ve done my Medium post.
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