So I've come to the conclusion that I'm just way too adult.
I say this because I remember having the time and inclination to consider the effect choice of rootbeer has on the quality of each separate element of a rootbeer float. I have audio evidence: we taped our taste test. I have over a dozen tiny tapes filled with rants on topics ranging from inspirational to inane, awesome and idiotic.
This is because I noticed things, at least half of the thousand little details that make up any given day. I had the time to notice, and we had the time to discuss, to actually appreciate them. And let's face it, there was a hell of a lot less going on in my life back then. I was a full-time college student with a part-time dishwashing job. I was single, and I lived with my parents.
Now I'm an entreprenuer, as well as a wage worker for a distribution warehouse, making the kind of money I used to dream of making, only to pay out the nose to keep my home and my bills covered. I didn't have bills, a car, insurance, gas, groceries, and because I was in school, my parents didn't charge me rent, yet somehow I remember my money being tight. What the hell did I spend it on?
Right now, I'm not noticing those things. I'm not staying up all night in binge writing kicks. When I get home, I'm generally too tired to even think about writing, seeing it as a kind of effort, one which keeps getting put off.
There's a legitimate explanation for this: there's a lot of writing that does keep getting put off.
I want to write a piece about the people who tried to recruit me in April last year. It was some kind of money scam, set up and operated in a legitimate way. I went to an interview, which turned out to be more of a mass-recruitment assembly. It had all the hallmarks of a financial cult, backed up by a magazine sporting a story touting this company's incredible success. We did a little research, and discovered that the magazine, which didn't have a story in it that wasn't inspirational or subtly (see: blatantly) promotional, was owned by the same parent company. If I were to actually go back and say yes, I could write a new Crooks series from the inside, complete with an interview from a guy I know who was fooled into saying yes.
I want to write a piece on death, on our culture's reaction to it, and on the various behaviours that surround it. This was brought on by my friend who died last January. This one has had more of an effect on me. It was right after that event that I fell behind in my Final Fantasy Villain reviews, and I still haven't caught up.
See, writing is like plumbing. When something, especially a whole lot of something, is prevented from passing through to its destination, in this case the form of many written words, it can start to prevent smaller somethings from getting through as well. The longer that happens, the more you need a major pipe-cleaning job. My current theory is that when we're doing this stuff full time, and I'm in the habit of clearing my pipes on a daily basis, I'll be in a much better position to write all this shit down.
But for now, I'm working significantly more than full-time. I worked enough overtime last week to double my paycheck. All night writing binges aren't really an option right now. It's much easier to do that and still sleep for at least a few restful hours when you know that if you don't show up in the morning, you won't get the boot.
So there's my gripe for today. When we get going full-time, I'll be able to choose my hours. True, as an entrepreneur I'll probably have to work more than full-time to keep things working, but I can work at night, when writing is easier. I'll probably get more work done on both of the novels I'm currently working on, my villain reviews, my larger articles, Animal Feed, movie reviews, and those questions that are starting to build up for Ask the Wordsmith.
