First I must begin with an apology.
An apology to my blog.
It's been mistreated, malnourished and poorly maintained, left alone in the online wilderness at the mercy of the creatures that wander it. Basically, I've written naff all. Bad writer, bad.
Fortunately that apology leads nicely into the somewhat confusing subject of this rare, and ultimately far too long in the making, update to my otherwise uncared for online presence. Hurray for carefully crafted coincidences.
As a writer (three words I like to start most sentences with), I spend all day churning out word after word. From 8am to 5:30pm I work as a copywriter for a marketing agency, and my hands are stuck to a keyboard drumming away on those poor little keys like an overly enthusiastic metal tribute act, desperate to please and eager to impress. Fuelled by caffeine and a burning desire to make people believe I'm good at something, I write like a man possessed... possessed by the ghost of a writer.
I write so much and so fast that people know they can come to me for anything. Any emergency jobs that need doing yesterday - Ash is your man. Any last minute amends before we send it over to client - Ash is your man. Any massive fuck off jobs that no-one remembered to write a brief for and they need doing for tomorrow - Ash is your man.
I get it all done. I have time for tea. I like being the man for the job.
But by the time I finish work and get home, I just want to NEVER WRITE AGAIN. Christ, if there's one thing that can make you question your passions it's a whole day spent doing them. You need a rest, you need some time off to refuel your mind, you need to crack your fingers. The last thing you need is to keep doing more of the same, because by then your brain is just an empty field where thoughts go to die. They creep up all shy and afraid to make themselves known, then get caught by tiredness and stumble to their pathetic demise.
"Ooh, Ash," they say, "How about you carry on with that story?"
SHUT UP, IDEA.
"Hey Ash, maybe tonight you could submit that bit of editorial?"
QUIET, IDEA. I'M EATING DINNER.
"Ash, what about if..."
DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE PRICK?
Ideas get nowhere after 5:30. Ideas that had potential get pushed to the back of my mind, where they will wait their turn until the same time tomorrow, when once again I'll tell them to suck my dick. Get it nice and wet. Oh yeah, that's how I like it.
So, how do you write when you're a writer? I don't know, hence why this is my first blog post since July and my story is stuck on chapter 7, where the main character still has no solid connection to the overall narrative arc. Right now I just don't have the energy, the motivation, the enthusiasm I might have once had for writing short horror stories at 11:30 at night. Sad, really.
But what I do have is the passion, and as long as that's there, one day I'll let one of those ideas breathe.
Not tonight though, guys, get back on your knees.
