Wrestling with Philosophy, Fantasy, and the Fear of a Crumbly Brain
Ah, my friend! You’re waiting for me to finish my novel, while I’m still wrestling with the significant questions of life while trying to pen a tale set in the late Scandinavian Bronze Age. You see, what I’m trying to do is to mix philosophy with fantasy and throw some witty humour into the brew, because literature is nothing if it doesn’t make you laugh. And let me tell you, that’s a cocktail that leaves me both exhausted and weary that people won’t like it enough! So, I’m procrastinating “to the world’s end” out of it.
Here's me, not writing.
You know, the problem I have is that I feel that my brain has gotten old and crumbly (cars my age are called vintage). No matter how hard I try, everything I write seems like it’s a straitjacket tailored by a blindfolded seamstress—restrictive and ill-fitting.
You have a point, dear reader. Shouldn’t I just go with something easier? A simple story? Something that’s been done thousands of times by far brighter people than me. Maybe I should just dance to the same tune everyone else got playing on their headphones? Ah, but there’s the rub! The world is a boring place and also quite dumb. I positively do not wish to walk around in its mud without an intelligent thought in my head and certainly never without a lot of silliness. Nor do I wish such a gruesome fate upon you.
I love the complexities and the nuances of life like a cat loves a cardboard box—it doesn’t know why, but it just can’t resist getting into it. Like any other human being, my mind is complexly determined and contextually rational. I might run around like a chicken with its head cut off, following my internal compass (which might be slightly skewed), but it’s my way of doing things. It’ll take some time, but I’ll get there eventually, so pull up your chair and watch me go at it. Although, I suggest you bring your own snacks—I don’t share.