Is there anything wrong with writing for fun?
This is a subject that I prefer to think about with a modest drink in my hand.
I always have ideas for something I want to write. Often, I want to weave stories of fantasy, high adventure, and fun. Maybe it’s the anxiety disorder talking, or maybe it’s the myriad of imposter syndrome feelings experienced by all artists, but I feel like “fun” is synonymous with “waste of time”.
In a world where hate crimes are on the rise in North America, the planet is getting warmer, the natural world is being devastated to feed the inherent greed of humanity, and untold millions of people are born hopeless, the idea of writing something I think is fun seems pitiful.
The late and great Stan Lee of Marvel comics wrote briefly about this sort of feeling in a book he wrote about writing comic books. He referred to the feeling of looking at this world full of serious problems and thinking that his own contributions have no weight or importance.
He ended that thought with a realization that entertaining people is something important. To be able to make people smile or think fondly of a story they experienced, in this world of serious problems, is quite a feat, and a worthwhile venture.
I try to keep this in mind in my own life. It’s too easy for me to become paralyzed in my writing because I think about the social responsibility of it, or rather, a responsibility to do something else.
This kind of thinking is ultimately useless for me. It doesn’t inspire me to get out in the world and do something. It just means I don’t write, or do anything but get wrapped up in my thoughts.
Even if it feels like a rejection of the real world, escapist and juvenile, I always feel better when I write. Telling stories is what I do, it’s one of a short list of things that make me feel good about being me.
If anybody reading this has felt similarly, the advice I will give you is the same advice I would give myself.
Write.
Listen to yourself. Make your art.
