Thursday, June 05, 2014
Guilt and Threats. Final Fund-Raising Plea
I only remember afterwards how much writing about something like the Santa Barbara butcher takes out of me. While the writing flows I just channel it, feeling cool, calm and collected (though the research before that stage is another story). But when it's all over, the price must be paid. Thank goddess for migraine medications.
Similar problems attach themselves to any painful writing. I have a lot of thoughts about the term "rape culture," some even helpful thoughts. But when I try to write about them my head becomes verrry heavy and I need a nap first. And first and first.
The point -- if there is one -- is that different types of emotional energy can fuel one's writing but they are not all equally costly or cheap. Others' pain and suffering demand rapid payment, and that payment is high.
That's self-pitying stuff and of no importance, but I snuck it in because someone might be bent towards donating money by that whine. (And snuck is a word, I swear.)
Don't let me press your guilt buttons. Mostly I love what I do here. It beats window-washing and toilet cleaning and many other jobs for which nobody pays me, and the writing on the blog stays while the windows and toilet bowls just ask for more cleaning.
If guilt doesn't affect you much, how about threats? I might do an Elizabeth Wurtzel and write about myself All. The. Time. I might decide that a pope who never had children is right about children being the point of all existence, that nothing is worse than old age without children. Francis should know, after all, given that celibacy thing.
I might write how our whole existence (as determined by "science") is just as vehicles for our genes to reproduce themselves. I might go one better on Wurtzel and friends, and decide that the point of our lives is to be an environment for our stomach bacteria to thrive so that they can pass their genetic information on, that the point in having children is to guarantee future environments for those stomach bacteria. -- Come to think of it, I would probably make a lot more money if I chose those paths of the writing life or the paths the Ann Coulters of this world are busily plowing.
Duh. I'm not very good at threats.
My deepest thanks to all of you who have sent me money or encouragement (with vague future promises of money). I adore all of my readers, because you are smart, kind and eloquent.