Hamilton

My friend Katie showed me the musical Hamilton the other day, and other than thinking it was insanely long, I thought it was amazing. My favourite song by far was Non-Stop, mainly because it massively called me out. 

A frequently repeated line throughout the song asks Alexander Hamilton, "Why do you write like you're running out of time?" because I realized that, as someone who professes to want to write so much, I don't. 

Writing soothes me, but as  I've mentioned before, it's very demoralizing that people don't read what I write. Attempting to write professionally is exhausting and writing to a company to convince them to let you write for them is a head fuck, but one I should be used to by now. I've been using these two things to justify not writing at all when, in fact, I should be using this as inspiration. 

I'm lucky in that I am a genuinely good writer, I just don't have the drive when I should do. So what if no one reads what I write? The won't have anything to read if I don't write it in the first place. 

Take the essay that I started last month. After reading Skin I realised the similarities between the text and Palaniuk's Invisible Monsters and Benjamin Zephania's Face. I had a great idea, an idea that I could go far with and enjoyed discussing with my friends. I had a great starting point but I just, stopped. In the same vein as the essay I wanted to write analysing the use of narrative in Bret Easton Ellis novels I was too lazy to open my laptop and get the words down. The ideas excited me, relaxed me and made my brain feel like it was finally turned on for the first time in months, but I never actually made the effort to put the words down. 

There are so many things I could try to blame but the only problem is myself. There is noone else who can put my ideas onto paper so I have to get off my ass and do it. I finally found a copy of Invisible Monsters, seemingly impossible in Darwin because it's a tad dark. But on my first trip to an actual book store in over two years I finally did. I also found a copy of a book that I lent my friend 14 years ago and never got back. I should probably let that one go but, as anyone who knows me will know, your girl is good at holding a grudge. 

My job as a bartended affects my writing as well, but I incorrectly see this affect as a negative. Yes I work long hours, no I'm not working as a writer. But I'm working a job that allows me to write in my spare time whilst making an income. No one is good at everything, but I'm lucky enough to be good at two things I enjoy and so I need to make use of this. What's the point in having free time to write if I don't make use of it?

I'm in Montreal at the moment, surrounded  by crisp leaves and beautiful architecture and I'm allowing myself to relax into my words. The air is crisp and the leaves are falling and each day I'm on this trip I relax even more. Every person I've described Darwin to has told me I need to move and I'll touch more on that later. A white man quite literally got away with murdering an indigenous person not to long ago and as my friend Katie pointed out, I will find somewhere else to live outside of the Northern Territory. Yes money is an issue, but money will be an issue wherever I go. My lease runs out in February and I have solemnly promised not to  renew it. Right now I'm just happy to be writing and surrounded by the things I enjoy. Travel soothes me and I'll  always be able to make more money, so I just need to relax. 

And stop making excuses. 

Stay safe on the road

J