How does Neil do it?
I half expect some idiot from the front row to stand up and yell that Neil's a professional writer, or for some kid from the back row to timidly ask her mommy what in blazes I was talking about. Of course, you'll have to first imagine that I was a stand-up comic doing a routine in front of a school auditorium, wherein the entire fragment of reality may very well fall apart, frothing and foaming at the seams.
The question, ostensibly - or is it? - refers to how Neil Gaiman manages to blog so regularly without sounding silly or conceited, which is how most writers tend to sound (or is this just a common stereotype of the "intellectual man?"). The reason I ask this is because for the past few days, I've been logging into my blog account with the intention of coming up with a filler to bridge the gap between my last (filler) post and my next (hopefully blockbuster) post, only to sign out again because, well, I really can't get myself up to writing something.
Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that the past week's been a horrible mess, what with my body clock reverting to it's old, primordial-soup state and taking a life of it's own, using my own social life as its sacrificial lamb. To date, I haven't been out of the house, I've been doing all my work at home (my boss is on tenterhooks; I believe that when I do show up at the office, despite the fact that I've been working as hard as I can, when I can, she will brandish a kali blade with the intent of gutting me from head to toe for the fun of it), and I've reduced myself to one to two meals a day to make up for the lack of activity. I can feel my stomach being revitalized into a sea of chi.
It could be burnout. A frightening prospect, but frightening because it's a reality. Frightening because I can't imagine myself stopping from writing, from imagining, at any point in my life. I kick so much ass with my imagination, I sometimes think that my entire life is a figment of fantasy, that one of these days I'll wake up to discover that I was, in fact, a hardcore CEO of one of the biggest cereal-and-grain manufacturers in the Philippines, and that whatever creativity I had was the result of a peyote-induced coma when my pet monkey accidentally grabbed a syringe full of the cactus juice from a passing laundry truck and injected the bloody thing into my bloodstream during a jiu jitsu workout.
See what I mean? This is the way I want to write. I want to astound, I know I can astound, and I know I want to keep astounding. I will rock the world. Someday.
But the sorry fact of the matter is that I can't rock the world until I can master the art of turning the bullshit-slash-imagination on at will. And it isn't just for writing my stories, either. There's the job. There's the letters. There's the bloody blog, and the plans I have for conquering the art world by penning comics that will rock Asgard into the depths of Hel and bring cherubim with punk hairdos and electric guitars together with peace-loving minions of the underworld together. Yin and yang. Tiu and la. Swimming together, in a circle, under one moon. Like Life itself didn't matter. So many things to achieve, that sometimes twenty-four hours a day isn't enough.
Again, how in the name of all the bloody moons of Jupiter does Neil do it??
I half expect some idiot from the front row to stand up and yell that Neil's a professional writer, or for some kid from the back row to timidly ask her mommy what in blazes I was talking about. Of course, you'll have to first imagine that I was a stand-up comic doing a routine in front of a school auditorium, wherein the entire fragment of reality may very well fall apart, frothing and foaming at the seams.
The question, ostensibly - or is it? - refers to how Neil Gaiman manages to blog so regularly without sounding silly or conceited, which is how most writers tend to sound (or is this just a common stereotype of the "intellectual man?"). The reason I ask this is because for the past few days, I've been logging into my blog account with the intention of coming up with a filler to bridge the gap between my last (filler) post and my next (hopefully blockbuster) post, only to sign out again because, well, I really can't get myself up to writing something.
Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that the past week's been a horrible mess, what with my body clock reverting to it's old, primordial-soup state and taking a life of it's own, using my own social life as its sacrificial lamb. To date, I haven't been out of the house, I've been doing all my work at home (my boss is on tenterhooks; I believe that when I do show up at the office, despite the fact that I've been working as hard as I can, when I can, she will brandish a kali blade with the intent of gutting me from head to toe for the fun of it), and I've reduced myself to one to two meals a day to make up for the lack of activity. I can feel my stomach being revitalized into a sea of chi.
It could be burnout. A frightening prospect, but frightening because it's a reality. Frightening because I can't imagine myself stopping from writing, from imagining, at any point in my life. I kick so much ass with my imagination, I sometimes think that my entire life is a figment of fantasy, that one of these days I'll wake up to discover that I was, in fact, a hardcore CEO of one of the biggest cereal-and-grain manufacturers in the Philippines, and that whatever creativity I had was the result of a peyote-induced coma when my pet monkey accidentally grabbed a syringe full of the cactus juice from a passing laundry truck and injected the bloody thing into my bloodstream during a jiu jitsu workout.
See what I mean? This is the way I want to write. I want to astound, I know I can astound, and I know I want to keep astounding. I will rock the world. Someday.
But the sorry fact of the matter is that I can't rock the world until I can master the art of turning the bullshit-slash-imagination on at will. And it isn't just for writing my stories, either. There's the job. There's the letters. There's the bloody blog, and the plans I have for conquering the art world by penning comics that will rock Asgard into the depths of Hel and bring cherubim with punk hairdos and electric guitars together with peace-loving minions of the underworld together. Yin and yang. Tiu and la. Swimming together, in a circle, under one moon. Like Life itself didn't matter. So many things to achieve, that sometimes twenty-four hours a day isn't enough.
Again, how in the name of all the bloody moons of Jupiter does Neil do it??
There is your chakra; you need to empty it. You have to concentrate. Use the Force. And then there is the matter of that thing Orochimaru placed on your tummy. You can learn the skills needed to remove it. But it's not gonna be from a Jedi.
ReplyDeleteIt's going to be from a Kinky Boss, a Chaos Gretchin, and a suplex performer doing chants inside Green Haven. ;)
Me loves Mr. Gaiman too.
ReplyDelete"There's the job. There's the letters. There's the bloody blog, and the plans I have for conquering the art world by penning comics that will rock Asgard into the depths of Hel and bring cherubim with punk hairdos and electric guitars together with peace-loving minions of the underworld together."
To do all that, cut the number one item on your list. Quit your job. Haha. Seriously, though, mahirap talaga maghanap ng time para magsulat pag may day job ka. Good luck kung ano man!
@ John: I haven't slept yet, and my heart / pulse rate is doing cartwheels.
ReplyDelete@ Ced: That's one way of getting there, haha. But day jobs are important. They give you maneh.
Yeah, somehow we need the maneh too. Buti na nga lang di ko na kailangang bumili ng shampoo eh. Bawas sa gastos. Haha.
ReplyDelete@ ced: haha, oo nga. pero gitara ang pumalit. ganun rin. :D
ReplyDeletenaka semi retirement ako sa paggigitara ngayon so 9-v batteries lang ang pinakamalaking investment ko ngayon, and strings from time to time. hehe. tumutugtog ka pa ba?
ReplyDelete@ ced: not really. medyo slow ang music scene dito eh. very poppish. lots of good musicians. dead lang ang eksena.
ReplyDeleteManeh. Haha! New term. Lawl! Yes, Mart, we are two of a kind re sleeping habits. Eff.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteAba, galing sakin yung term na maneh ah! Look: http://holypatola.blogspot.com/2006/09/its-dull-saturday-and-ive-done-nothing.html
ReplyDeletedouble comment! peachy loves me! hahaha.
ReplyDeletetsong, i didn't know you back in 2006. how the hell could i have known that you used the term maneh? i've been using it for a long time. sorry duders, but you can't sue me for plagiarism there hehe. :D