Does it matter?

Lately I’ve been having conversations – constantly ongoing inside my head, but occasionally with other people too – about whether to carry on trying to write when I can’t see any prospect of completing anything worth publishing; whether I should write ‘for myself’; and crucially, whether writing ‘makes me happy’ (whatever that means).

All I can say is that when it goes right it’s the greatest joy imaginable, but those times are so rare, is it really worth churning out sentence after sentence knowing that most of them are of no interest to anyone, not even me?  I know the argument that if you don’t go through all the grunt work, you’ll never have a chance of finding the treasure, but on any given Monday morning, the pleasures of walking by the sea, listening to the radio, reading, crocheting, killer su doku-ing in a friendly café and untangling yarn (which I’ve been doing the last couple of weeks) are so much more immediate, accessible and reliable, why bother spending time and nervous energy on anything so risky and massively unproductive as writing?

I’ve been vaguely wondering about how many words I’ve written in my lifetime – starting with the years 2008 and 2009 where I wrote (and blogged) a minimum of 500 words every day – so for those two years I churned out over 365,000 words – I’m not sure how long I continued with that discipline of blogging, but I think it was consistent for at least another couple of years, and then there were the years 2000-2007 where I wrote a journal every day even if I wasn’t blogging, so when you add in the 200,000 words of the first draft of ‘Single to Sirkeci’, that will easily get us past the million word mark from 2000 to 2012 (ignoring anything I’ve written before or since then, including the 50,000 words of last year’s NaNoWriMo marathon).

Speaking of which, the one thing that demonstrated is that it’s perfectly possible to keep on churning out those words without ever generating a spark of anything which can be turned into the germ of a novel or short story or anything of interest. Does that matter? This is the question I started with, after all. Writing like this is the easiest thing in the world, but does it bring me joy or contentment for its own sake? When it comes to crochet or knitting or lino-printing or weaving or any other craft, I guess I’m happy to just keep doing it and shoving the results into cupboards and drawers and forgetting about them. I guess that my writing is the same. At some point I’ll be gone and all these files on my computer will be deleted too and no one will know or care what I wrote or thought or felt. And if I don’t write the words out, what then? They get reabsorbed into my head and maybe the underlying thoughts will come out another time in another form or maybe not. And really, what does it matter? Why should anyone care?

Chasing Happiness

Saturday, 05 January 2019   2:30 AM

Already this year I am feeling besieged by the happiness gurus. For example, yesterday I read this:

‘If it doesn’t make you happy, something needs to change.’

Why? What? What needs to change? How can you predict what is going to ‘make you happy’?  And how are you supposed to change it? What to? How can you ever predict the consequences of what you do (long term, in their entirety)?

Why does everything have to ‘make you happy’ anyway? How does that work? Never do anything that stretches you, or scares you, or that might take you somewhere you weren’t expecting? What sort of life is that? Life is full of risk – you either jump into it or you don’t. And if you don’t want to right now – well, that can be okay too, but not necessarily forever.

Happiness is a chimera – in both senses. It is both an impossible quarry and a composite, an impossible composite of disparate elements that really shouldn’t (oh dear, we don’t say ‘should’ and ‘shoudn’t’ do we?) be together – that don’t make sense together. And what about the word ‘disparate’? I’ve been picked on in the past for using it, but fuck that, I’m writing this and it’s absolutely the word I want to use right there – if you don’t like it, go and get a fucking dictionary. Pretentious, moi??? I’m not using it to impress or intimidate you but because it says what I want to say better than any other word I can think of.

And in the end, that’s the point, isn’t it? Who’s writing this anyway? Maybe what makes me ‘happy’ is using the exact words I want to use, and I know what I’m saying and how I want to say it, so why the fuck not?

Probably I should take some of the ‘fucks’ out of this – probably I will, whether I ‘should’ or not. Everyone plays around with words in their own way. Why shouldn’t I?

That word ‘quarry’, for example – it also has two meanings – both the thing being pursued (the chimera of happiness, in this case) and a source, a place from which things are extracted. What am I extracting here? (Apart from the Michael – or the urine). Meaning, of course. I’m digging in the quarry of the English language to pull out meaning, and that is my raison d’être’ (maybe bits of other languages too). It’s what I do, and though I say it as shouldn’t (oh, there go the ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ again!), may I say I do it brilliantly. I do it in the only way I can, and as only I can, and it would be very gratifying if someone (anyone) would read this and say: ‘that’s amazing, that’s fabulous, I just love the way you play with words’. But even though I know that’s a pretty hopeless quest (and a hopeless quarry) I will continue to do it even if I’m the only one who reads it, because it is the process of doing so that MAKES ME HAPPY! and…

What was the question again?