Friday, May 27, 2016

On Writing.

Writing is a pretty damned sedentary occupation. One sits for hours at a desk and pours their imagination onto a page or a blank screen. I've heard it's easy work for some, but it has rarely been such for me.

That said, you can get really fat in a brief time if all you do for activity is fire up the brain cells and do little else. Fortunately I love being outdoors, so I find myself in various places where I can play. And if your exercise is also one of your favorite pastimes, then what a great combination.

This year I gained a fair amount of weight (almost 20 pounds at one point--most of which I have thankfully shed) because I've spent so much time at this desk and so little time getting much needed exercise. It doesn't help that my wife is one of those women who cooks pretty much every day and prepares excellent meals.

Some writers I know get treadmills or build little indoor gyms in their homes. That's cool. But it wouldn't get me outside, even if the treadmill is in front of a window so that you can pretend you're out in the fresh air and sunshine. That's not for me.

As I mentioned in my last post, writing is like an obsession for me. Sometimes it burns white-hot and I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. The words come and they have to be placed on the page. More often, it's just plain hard work with little inspiration and the application of a lot of sweat-of-the-brow. It's after such tough bouts of effort when I have to open the door, walk out into the light of day, and get some real exercise.

Work work work work work work work.

A man outstanding in his field.

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