What if Writing Was a Military Routine?
Writers, soldiers, children, they all need one thing: a good nap.
War sounds like it sucks.
Massacre. Murder. Death. Destruction. Running — no thank you. Don’t get me wrong, along with it comes bravery and nobility and sacrifice, but I mean, for what? All this seemingly pointless suffering, for what? What can war achieve that an hour’s sit down can’t? Shuffle a couple open-minded, compassionate and patient leaders into a quaint seaside cafe and encourage them to listen, to talk it out, to compromise, to see things from one another’s perspectives, to figure things out and resolve issues calmly, kindly and most importantly, without shooting another human.
Probably sounds unrealistic, but that’s a reasonable desire, right? To do things without people dying? I tend to manage it most days. You know, not attacking human beings.
Well. Other than myself.
Attention all writer people!
What the hell are us guys playing at?
The military is one thing. Training up soldiers to battle against an opposing side in honour of their cause — but us? Us writers? We’re waging war on ourselves. We’re just one person on the same side and yet every day we put ourselves through this hellish…
