Maybe I have the wrong idea about writing and writers, but in my mind they can sometimes have the keen ability to make you feel… less than. There’s always the subconsciously-but-not-at-all-subconsciously-made undertone when you ask someone what they do and they say, *beat* “I’m a writer.” We all know what I’m talking about.
Truth is: we’re all writers. we’ve all had to write at least a dozen papers for our courses in Government, Greek Civilization, Creative Writing, “In at least 10 pages, what is your reaction to “Lysistrata”? That was writing done out of necessity. I hope you all got A’s… you deserved them.
My take on writing is to “riff” on things I see. Be it a goober-dude at the grocery store or a video I saw on YouTube starring a kitty. A commentator, observer, describer-of-things.
My point is: responding to the question “what do you do?” with “I’m a writer.” is (for most, not all) stupid.
We write. We write on our own memories everyday… on our brains and in our hearts. The real task of a writer is the same as that of any artist: to transport the observer into their own psyche. “Hey man, I know how you feel.” That’s really the basis of art. Either that or “uh, wow I’m glad I’m not you.” Beethoven did it with his Kreutzer Sonata. Cobain did it with About a Girl. Woody Allen did it with Annie Hall. Ferran Adria did it with
ElBulli (which, so I’m told is closing [???]). My goal is to attempt to ignite the fire that’s in my soul for food. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a cook above all else. I want to invite you into my life in the kitchen. Welcome. Come again.