070709 – 3. Am I a writer?
Dearest People who are reading this,
It’s been a while, well a week to be precise, since I last sat at this very spot in the front room of my house writing to you about what I am doing, trying to do, failing to do and of course my list. It would have certainly been written sooner, shaved a couple of days off at least, had I not been so intent on sticking to my list, going to the pub to meet friends, getting drunk and thus knocking me off my stride for a while. I’ve not been to the pub for a while, the thought of it fills me with terror if I’m being totally honest but I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s the crowds, but it’s more likely because I get very drunk, very quickly and smoke almost nonstop for several hours, rendering me incapable of conversation with other human’s, including family, for several days and leaving me stuck in the house for a similar time period so as not to expose myself to direct sunlight. That’s probably it. In future, if I’m going to keep to the list, I must add another item so as to keep me moving in a general forward direction, zigzagging, but generally forward.
11. Leave the pub after 4 pints. Unless it’s a really good night of course, and then stay for a while longer, say for 1 more, at least.
Well here I am, back again, a week on and a little further along my path. When I left you last I was looking for work, still am, but I do have some interviews lined up and so yet again I score against my list. What can I say, I’m on a roll. Or am I? If at this point you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about then you should probably go and have a look at ‘my list of sorts, kind of, thing’ on my first blog entry, dated around a week ago from today, but longer if based on your current date, which will be sometime in the future. I now have no idea what I’m talking about. Oh yes I do, my list. You see the thing with lists is, (SEVERAL HOURS AND A PACKET OF CIGGARETTES LATER) that they are pretty fucking boring aren’t they? Sorry, I have typed and typed for hours about the stuff I’ve done over the last week to tick things off my list, only to delete it and you know what, I don’t really give a shit, and you won’t either and so I’ll just straight to the point I was trying to make and leave the god damn list for another day. There, much better.
The point I was aiming to get at, is that I have been pondering, shrouded in a veil of thought, since I last wrote to you, a week in which I have done various bits that I have spared you from reading, trying to answer a question that has been bugging me, a bit like a boil on my arse, but less boil like, and in my head, not on my arse. The question that has been giving me sleepless nights is a seemingly simple one: Am I a writer? I did say that it was a simple question, but it is a question that has lead to various other questions of a similar nature and well doing my bloody head in. I mean I like to write, or at least I certainly want to write, and I’m pretty sure I’ll write till I pop my clogs. Does what I’m doing now make me a writer, I mean I’m writing, but this is a blog isn’t it, and so surely I’m a blogger? Are blogger’s Writer’s? I asked a friend of mine at the pub, a chap who spent a large chunk of his early years writing, if he ever considered himself a writer. He never thought about it, was his answer. Maybe that is how I should think about it from now on, just stick to the list; keep on updating my website, writing and generally fumbling my way along. I suppose it’s for other people to say if I’m a writer or not, based on what I have written, which is not a lot as yet. But if I stick to my list… ah, maybe my list is important after all, sorry list.
Right, I’m now back on track, list in my top pocket, smile on my face and ready to get back on the path, clicking my heels as I go. I have an interview tomorrow and am working later this week and so I’m off to shave, drink tea, polish my shoes and brush up on my Klingon. I’ll write sooner next time I think and I’ll certainly have more to tell you about, stuff and bits. Until then please,
Keep safe and don’t neglect your list,
Goodbye,
Andrew
p.s. I am now reading a new book, Tony Hawks, Travelling Around Ireland with a Fridge, which has started very well although I was most upset to finish the first volume of Simon Gray’s Smoking Diaries which was marvellous, so good in fact that I’ll be ordering the next 3 volumes this week for when I’ve finished on my journey around Ireland, with a fridge.