"Why would you bother keeping a diary?" asks Paddy, over dinner in the plaza after work. "There's no money in it. And it's not like anyone's going to read it."
This was an unexpectedly callous approach to the creative arts, coming from a man who is a published and prize-winning author. I didn't know how to respond, and but was not too distracted to snaffle the last chip.
Aye, there's no money in it, but wouldn't it spoil it if there were? The idea of it being weakened and marketed, tailored to a mass audience, instead of savouring the very private pleasure of turning verbs into adjectives... inventing words, playing last and foose with punctuation and the lore of grammar that I've spent the last nine months drilling into Spanish 10-year-olds.
It's a gloriously self-indulgent mental masturbation, messy and mine and all over the page. Unlovingly crafted for an audience of one adoring fan.
But then the summer comes, and solo travel throws up more bizarre scenarios, eccentric characters and non sequiturs than my inner monologue can handle. It's mandatory to reach out and touch. A little task to focus on while On Tour, and an excuse to write again, this year's diary being one I used less and less as my friendships grew sweeter.
So I'm excited and happy to have my little pet project again. There may be no money in it but I like the thought that someone is reading it.
This was an unexpectedly callous approach to the creative arts, coming from a man who is a published and prize-winning author. I didn't know how to respond, and but was not too distracted to snaffle the last chip.
Aye, there's no money in it, but wouldn't it spoil it if there were? The idea of it being weakened and marketed, tailored to a mass audience, instead of savouring the very private pleasure of turning verbs into adjectives... inventing words, playing last and foose with punctuation and the lore of grammar that I've spent the last nine months drilling into Spanish 10-year-olds.
It's a gloriously self-indulgent mental masturbation, messy and mine and all over the page. Unlovingly crafted for an audience of one adoring fan.
But then the summer comes, and solo travel throws up more bizarre scenarios, eccentric characters and non sequiturs than my inner monologue can handle. It's mandatory to reach out and touch. A little task to focus on while On Tour, and an excuse to write again, this year's diary being one I used less and less as my friendships grew sweeter.
So I'm excited and happy to have my little pet project again. There may be no money in it but I like the thought that someone is reading it.
No comments:
Post a Comment