Maybe I'm supposed to write all the time.

September 2019:

I like writing. It feels indulgent even to say so, possibly because most of the published work I’ve ever read is itself highly indulgent. I shudder to imagine what these “gifted” “highly educated” writers produce in their first drafts. The idea that anyone is professionally compensated for the mono-prosodic babble I see in the news and in books pains me for some reason. Maybe that’s the capitalism talking. Anyone I’ve ever talked to who attempts to write (not a massive sample, but large enough for ranting generalizations) believes:

1. There’s a sentiment deep down inside them somewhere capable of shifting the Earth off its axis, and

2. Nothing they’ve ever written captures that sentiment.

Given what this one-two punch seems to reveal about the capacity of words, successful writers ought to relent on these thoughts and publish for either the fun of it or a paycheck. I haven’t managed to do this. The Mach Log Patreon does very little besides exist and writing for the site isn’t fun. It feels like something I need to do. Many writers who hit it big “can’t believe the effect their words have had” or some equivalent horseshit. I feel bad publishing anything that doesn’t hint at Writer Belief #1. Why put fingers to keyboard and draft and revise and fine-tooth your words if they can’t be taken to heart that way? Anything less than that pretty much has to be a waste of time.

ALSO ME: But is that not a waste of time as well, given Writer Belief #2?

ME: Yeah, it probably is.

ME AGAIN: So just do the thing you already said makes sense instead of being mad at other writers just because they get paid to suck at their jobs.

STILL ME: I’m not sure I can let this go. The need to create is wrapped up in this need to express Belief #1.

ME, CONT.: Since when are you such a romantic type about all this?

BACK TO ME: What could be more romantic than optimal utility?

ME, PENULTIMATELY: Fair enough. Maybe just write more? No one’s going to read all of this, anyway. When they’re bored, they’ll stop.

ME, FINALLY: I’ll give it a shot.