The Masochistic Nature of Writing
Yes, there is comfort and therapeutic value to be found in it (writing) and many of us almost feel as though we were “born to do it”. But let’s be honest, unless you’re an extraordinarily talented craftsman or craftswoman of words there is a certain element of masochism to this whole writing business.
On any given evening, fueled by caffeine and an exhilarating confidence the keys are struck with a fiery determination. The creative engine is roaring, all of its cylinders are firing on time and it’s as though the words are assembling themselves in an order that could never be improved upon. You’ve dug deep, you’ve revisited important events in your life for inspiration -some may not have been the most pleasant- but it’s paying off. This is why you took to this whole storytelling thing and finally it’s coming together. Page after page of quality work has been produced. You’re at it until the wee hours of the morning and even after you lay down you’re mind continues to race for a period of time.
“I’ll be damned, I’m a writer.”
Morning breaks, you get your caffeine fix loaded up and you sit down to survey what you created last night. This is no small thing. You have built something, and that is something to take a certain amount of pride in. You’ve laid down a strong foundation for some serious work.
Then you begin to read and your face grows long with disappointment. The words are in all the wrong places. The desired effect is not there. This is rubbish.
Good thing the wood burner is still blazing because that’s exactly where this attempt at literature is headed.
Then you start all over again. That’s masochism.
With that being said, never stop.