People sometimes ask me, entirely well meaning, if I enjoy writing.
This is a fairly typical, polite question. One shows an interest in the interests of others, gives them the opportunity to talk about it. It’s not their fault at all that this immediately sends me into something of a mental wormhole.
Do I enjoy writing? This is a hobby to which I have dedicated innumerable hours. My word counts stretches into hundreds of thousands. I read, in part, to make my writing better. I’ve attended workshops, I watch recommended YouTube videos, all these little things that folk do when they pursue a passion.
But do I enjoy it? I’m honestly not sure. There’s aspects that are enjoyable, certainly. Mostly having written, past tense, rather than writing itself. It doesn’t help that I write extremely slowly. Oh, there’s the occasional burst of a few thousand words, here and there, mostly early in the outlining stage. But as the wisdom of the internet says, slow progress is still progress. But it is also an exercise in absolute frustration.
So. Why do it?
Three times in my life, I gave up writing. One, during my undergraduate degree, when I had neither time nor money to devote myself to such a frivolous habit. Two, as I entered the workforce, when I have neither time nor money for such a self-indulgence. Three, when I studied once more and had no time for anything, never mind a dream.
And yet, always, I found myself opening a Word document again.
That surely implies a degree of enjoyment. Or perhaps it simply indicates a stubbornness, a fondness for old patterns. But the timing of it always stood out to me. Despite the image of the ‘starving artist’, I returned to writing during parts of my life where I was happy and comfortable.
And because of this I’ve developed something of a pet theory. When an animal in captivity is happy and enriched, they display natural behaviours. When they are stressed or bored they will pace and chew at their surroundings. I suspect that creative behaviour – be it writing, art, or the baking of fancy cakes – is an inherit part of the human animal.
I don’t write because I enjoy it, I write because I enjoy life.
Yours,
Elmswood <3
