Dogged writers

After a recent shake-up of sorts, I’ve probably been over thinking things a bit… The whole idea of having careers, working for others or yourself, stepping back and wondering if what you’re doing is lasting or transient. I believe we are but travelers in this world, regardless of how many physical miles we amass.

For a long while all I wanted to do was write. I loved the idea that somebody’s job could be to go fishing in their own mind, hopefully catch a big idea and present it on a plate for somebody else to do the digesting. I’ve made you a meal, but I’m not hungry myself.

Here’s somebody who wants to please others more than oneself. Writers, I think, are dogs. Eaten in some parts of the world, put to work in others. They help the blind. They’re sent into wars. They’re restless. They’re good at finding drugs. They wear themselves out to retrieve a stick and bring it back to someone who ends up just throwing it further away. 99% of writers probably won’t find a master who goes “Bloody hell, I’ve seen some great sticks in my time but this is one.” Output is disposable, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter because the thrill comes from the chase. The finish line is somebody else’s territory.

A writer and his dog

Anyway, so after a lot of running around, I’ve been writing and editing content for a living which I suppose is a pretty good job. I enjoy it.

But recently I’ve been feeling an urge to write for myself and truly call whatever it is my own. Nothing of consequence, mind you.

That stick I’ve been chasing – I don’t feel like bringing it back to someone just yet; I’d rather chew it for a while like a stray dog would. Take a solitary voyage off-season, stripped of all expectations. Put down in words the little things that don’t really matter until you realise that everyone is really just a collection of little things. It’s the sum of these parts that define us. The fallen stick from a tree that’s still standing.The forgotten part that lived, died and lived on as soon as it hit the ground.

They’re only words but like unrequited lovers they long to be brought together.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. peindre says:

    Great site you have here.. It’s difficult to find quality writing like yours these days.
    I honestly appreciate people like you! Take


    1. Thank you very much indeed!


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