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i think maybe the moments when it feels best to be a writer— or, i'd presume, an artist, or whatever sort of Creative one may be— are the quick, quiet ones, stolen almost, during a shift at work or some other time that isn't really yours, when you're writing or reading (or what have you) and realize that's what your life really is. the job is a necessity, but it's background noise. the people around you that don't get it— set dressing. they're involved in plays outside of your own. but you have this secret inner world, this secret land either of your own making or from a fellow artist's making, and even though it's fictional, it feels more real than the din and motion around you. soon, the shift will be over, the meeting will end, your obligation will be fulfilled, and then you can return to your actual life, what you actually care about.
not in a way that confuses reality with fiction; quite the opposite. the fiction, even in its flaws and drama and impossibilities, is safer and brighter than the worlds we're actually inhabiting. the world i made is, in some ways, a dollhouse, but i can share it with other like-minded weirdos and they can add their own dolls and dollhouses, and the possibilities there go on forever, and that connection is everything. isn't it? the job is bullshit. the obligations are bullshit. the people in power angry at everything they don't understand are bullshit. but our art? that's something we can focus on and thrive on and feel good about it. that's what life ought to be. these moments are like little glimpses into a better world.
(all this inspired by: sitting in a classroom at another person's desk, reading a friend's series of vignettes about his RPG character, and feeling a shimmer of something)
not in a way that confuses reality with fiction; quite the opposite. the fiction, even in its flaws and drama and impossibilities, is safer and brighter than the worlds we're actually inhabiting. the world i made is, in some ways, a dollhouse, but i can share it with other like-minded weirdos and they can add their own dolls and dollhouses, and the possibilities there go on forever, and that connection is everything. isn't it? the job is bullshit. the obligations are bullshit. the people in power angry at everything they don't understand are bullshit. but our art? that's something we can focus on and thrive on and feel good about it. that's what life ought to be. these moments are like little glimpses into a better world.
(all this inspired by: sitting in a classroom at another person's desk, reading a friend's series of vignettes about his RPG character, and feeling a shimmer of something)
