Writers Are Lazy

Time to write is more important than the drive to do so. Writers are lazy. I can say that because I am one.

Today I attended a lecture on skin and cosmetics at the British Science Festival. It is important to note that despite my double A at GCSE, science is not my strongest point; last weekend I blamed gravity for me stealing the covers from a friend, making her exclaim “Ben is not a scientist!” and she was right. It was very cold though…

Therefore, it is fair to say that this lecture was not my usual scene in the slightest. I tried to listen and concentrate on what the lovely man was saying about skin pigment and vitamin D but the diagrams of skin and stats where I usually would see info about techniques in Shakespearean theatre and the conventions of Romantic poetry got me all confused. I’m an English student, what can I say?

This did not bother me though, because it meant that I had a whole hour allocated to write. In this time, I wrote: a monologue about a boy whose girlfriend cheated on him with another girl, causing him a lot of embarrassment and distress; a short piece about a girl with anorexia and a problem with the letter C; and a poem about an anxiety-sufferer’s symptoms during panic. Even more out of the ordinary, I actually kind of like the things I wrote, which is more than I can say about a lot of my work.

About two years ago, I can remember reading an email from a certain prominent children’s author saying he was not a writer anymore. This was a ridiculous statement as he then proceeded to publish a book not even 6 months later but that is somewhat besides the point at the moment.

Even if he hadn’t published that book, even if he never published another book ever again, even if he never picked up another pen or typed on another keyboard in his life, that man would still be a writer and do you know why? Because he is one. And once you are, you can’t stop.

Believe me, I’ve tried to stop writing when things have got particularly bad. Like when I rhymed “box” with “cocks”, that was a hard time.

But of course, you can stop writing. Take a break, have a kit kat and all that jazz but you can never stop being a writer. A bit like you can stop having sex but you will never stop being straight/gay/bisexual/dinosaur/whatever. You will never stop being a writer.

Thinking what a writer thinks, doing what a writer does. Walking past an obviously homeless man on the street with a stick of incense burning in the ground and thinking “god, there’s a story in that!”, because it’s innate. Inbuilt. Instant.

So I guess what I’m saying is that writing depends mostly on timing, may that be making time or finding time, to sit down with your notebook and just write. Write anything and everything you can.

Writer’s block doesn’t exist unless you allow it to. And stories don’t come unless you want them to.
Break down your schedule, wipe out procrastination and write that thing you always wanted to read.

Love,
Benjamin x

P.S. This is an old article, previously uploaded on my old blog, but my point still stands. Especially about "box" and "cocks". How I ever got over that I will never know.