25 May 2012

Dig it


Writing is like a drug (believe me I know) it produces an organized euphoria and provides a headspace where things are crystal clear. When it’s going down the way I want the freedom of the page lights me up – I’m firing on all four and have a full head of steam. The satisfaction in the word is nearly orgasmic. I forget the square neighbours and the cops at my door. I forget the trivialities that threaten to drag a man down. I did a hundred meaningless jobs – I was a construction worker, a ditch digger, a window cleaner and a librarian. I never felt right about any of them, but when I started with the words I knew what I wanted to do. It doesn’t matter if I’m never paid, or recognized – I can’t stop now that I found my thing.


1 comment:

  1. This get's me. The true substance of your passion, the intoxication of power in it, the omnipotence of the act of this demigod within you It leaves me almost religiously excited.