I'm a professional writer. It's not my fault, but I do actually get paid to write. But that's not what makes me a writer. I found Themestream a few days ago and I instantly knew I had to write an article. Something. Anything. It's a compulsion. I can't resist it. That's what marks me as a writer. Looking around the site, I see hundreds of people, thousands maybe, with the same compulsion.
What is it that drives us to write? What is this compulsion that sets writers apart from mere mortals? What makes us think that other people want to read what we write? It's an ego thing. Writers have massive egos. I mean really big, humongous egos. Writers want to share their thoughts with everybody. Novelists want to share their ideas. Essayists want to share their opinions. Writers just want to be read. Writers must be the most conceited, self-centred group on the planet.
"The cruelty is that we can write something that's quite atrocious, and if we are new to the craft it will look wonderful to us. We all think our baby is beautiful."
-- Gary Provost, Making Your Words Work
The Web allows everybody to be a publisher. Unfortunately, it also allows everybody to be a writer. And that's why the Web is 95% garbage. And I'm being generous. Count the spelling errors. The grammatical errors. The typographical errors. It's a depressing picture. And that's just here on Themestream. Well don't worry. I'm a professional. I don't make careless errors. (Yes, that is intended as a challenge! Go ahead and look...) But does that mean I can write? Does it mean I have anything worth saying? Of course I do. I know I do. My ego tells me so.
Some writers might pretend they are in it for the money. They are deceiving you (or themselves). They might also be in it for the money. But, in reality, their egos force them to write.
Try these figures: Themestream will pay me $0.10 for each person who views this article. If I tell all my friends to read it... well, that's about one dollar. Maybe a few people will stumble upon it by accident. Say $1.50 in total. Pretty poor payment for an hour's work. If I can write one article a week, and my friends don't desert me, I can make about $75 in a year. Not bad. In a couple of years I can afford the hard disk upgrade I desperately need. Well. Look at it this way: William Shakespeare would have been writing for 390 years before he could buy a hard disk. That puts me way ahead of him! (Think about it...)
Are you still with me? Are you trying to anticipate where I'm going with this? I'm not going anywhere. It's a stream of consciousness. I'm testing the water. I'm just… I'm just… oh, okay, I'll admit it. I was compelled to write something even though I didn't have anything to write about. I can't help it. It's because I'm a writer.
This site is shamelessly targeted at the writer's darkest compulsions. It's fiendishly cunning. Take a look at the name of the site:
Themestream
No, take another look:
The Me Stream.
How can a writer resist that? It's an ego thing.
Thanks for letting me share. As if you could have stopped me.
© David Meadows 20 August 2000