It is the night before my anthro final. Am I reviewing the major concepts we went over this semester? Rereading the material I wasn’t clear on the first time around? Memorizing the characteristics of each mode of production?
No. For the past five hours, I’ve been writing a short story. For what it’s worth, the story is my final project for creative writing, but I had another week to write it. What does it mean when you are your own brain’s prison bitch?
I tried to ignore the impulse, but whenever I so much as LOOKED at my notes, I’d hear bits of dialogue running through my head. My eyes would be reading about the concept of female personhood in Egypt, but my brain would be telling itself “Hey, I can tie in the local legend of the werewolf with the main character’s feelings of alienation and repression! I just used the word “repression!” I am SUCH a fucking genius! People are going to fall at my host body’s FEET when I publish this work of unrelenting, supreme, … coolness!”
This happens, without fail, every single fucking time I have to write something or do something important tomorrow. That painting I did of the lounge? Pre-empted a whole lot of fieldnotes and response papers. See that online comic I have? Ever wonder why my grades in high school sucked more donkey dick than a bunch of drunk teenagers in Tijuana?
In short, fuck you, inspiration. You ruin all hope I have of being able to afford a third pair of pants some day.
Hey, man, sounds like you’re in the same boat I am… I get all these really, really, really cool ideas, but all I have to do is figure out a way to make money off of 'em.
Inspiration is a money pit. I SO know where you are coming from.
However, eventually, when you least expect it (not unlike Candid Camera) something insanely great may happen.
For instance, I have a lot of web sites. I’m a pathetic geek. After signing up for a kajillion “free” sites (geocities, tripod, etc) I thought I’d get a REAL web host, and a REAL domain name, and make something fabulous. And, I have (sort of). It took a lot of time, and work, and I didn’t do other more “practical” things because I was busy with this site.
One of my friends, a dear fellow who is always really encouraging, is always nagging me “But when will you make money off of your art and pottery?”. He doesn’t understand my burning need to publish hundreds (yes, HUNDREDS) of Yosemite photographs. (I’m not a professional photographer, just an enthusiast.) He didn’t see where there could be any benefit of “payoff” for me by promoting Yosemite. But, out of the blue, an ad agency decided that one of my El Capitan photos was JUST the photo for them, and bought the rights to it for a car ad. (I got paid well. Probably not as much as I could have been paid, but pretty well.)
When you give in to inspiration, you create something that may end up being really Big. It may end up being the thing that will sell for a lot of money, or get you recognized, or whatever. Or, it may end up being a money-sucking distraction. It’s hard to say!
I know how that goes. I twisted my ankle pretty badly last Friday because I was absorbed in thinking about an idea for a story and walked off the sidewalk since I wasn’t watching where I was going.
And, to top it off, it hurt so badly that I forgot my idea :mad:.
I get my best ideas and strongest urges to write when I have to study. Since I study by making notes and rewriting salient points, I’m constantly looking at blank sheets of paper and thinking of all things I would rather write on them.
Previously, I had considered a tired arm and cramping hand as suffering for my craft. I’ve had to rethink that since reading Angel of the Lord’s post. The worst part is forgetting the idea.
