This isn’t Chinatown but it’s close
I keep writing because I believe that this time might be different
It’s without any artifice that I say I wrote this post wrong three or four times before writing the draft you’re reading now.
I knew what I wanted to write about after I watched Chinatown this week. It was clear in my mind. It was articulated in my notes app. Heck, it was right there on the screen. But the more I tried to write, the more the feeling nagged at me — draft after draft ended up deleted, so what was the point?
“Forget it, Tom. It’s writing.”
Chinatown doesn’t do storytelling like other films do storytelling. Most films give their characters an obstacle that, through the course of the film, they overcome in order to succeed. Chinatown gives Jake Gittes an obstacle that, through the course of the film, he overcomes only to fail anyway. As the credits rolled, I was left watching Jack Nicholson walk away and wondering what the point was.
Not of the film, you understand. But when you know you’re probably going to fail, what’s the point in anything?
Failure and writing go together like failure and, well, that neighbourhood in Los Angeles. Just yesterday, two different things I wrote were rejected from two different magazines. Today, I sent them elsewhere. I also wrote this post. Because, really, there’s nothing else to be done.
The point is, even if you know how it’s going to end, there’s a chance that this time will be different. Even if it isn’t, the unique circumstances might reveal something new. And the time after that will be different (even if it’s the same). All it takes is to try again.
