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Oh, how liberating that sentiment has proven to me over the years. I discovered the quote in my mid-20s. At the time, I aspired to be, if not the next Vonnegut, maybe the next Fitzgerald (minus the tumultuous marriage and bohemian shenanigans) or Hemingway (minus multiple tumultuous marriages, and the self-inflicted, fatal rifle wound). And then, thanks to Vonnegut, I learned I didn't have to like writing - in fact, I wasn't even supposed to like it! Now I knew for sure it was my calling. Soon enough, I realized creative writing was not really my strength; hence, journalism became my chosen career. What better way to write detailed, complex stories, integrating many characters and quotations, than under a couple-hour deadline? Like Poe's protagonist in "The Pit and the Pendulum," your choices seem bleak at the time: Above you swings the scythe-like pendulum of your editor's red pen; below, a pit of anonymity (read: unemployment) awaits those who can't pull it together in time. There's something so urgent about covering the latest twists and turns on the local school board, or the court log, that you can't afford to stop and hate what you're doing, or make excuses for not doing it. You look at your choices and, as Larry the Cable Guy would say, "Get 'er done." Whether I hated the act of writing became less important than its value to others. Deadlines exist, I'm convinced, to build efficient writers. They are boot camps for the undisciplined. Since trading in journalism for the world of public relations and marketing nine years ago, I've faced less extreme, less urgent deadlines. The writing has been entirely different, as well. Now, when I am polishing a piece of communication, it's much easier to become distracted and … Oh, look! That sunset is amazing. Hey, can you hang on? I need to check emails real quick … Back. Just give me a minute. I should look at my Facebook page. It's been almost a half-hour since I checked it! So … where was I? Oh yes, efficiency in writing. Speaking of Facebook, though, that cursed thing - abetted by its even more wretched cousin, Twitter - has probably done more to promote attention-deficit disorder in the average writer than anything else. It's no friend of grammatical competence, either. How often have I reviewed something I posted the day before, and found out I wrote, "your welcome"? Or, "Their really good musicians!" (In my defense, textspeak like "ur" has become so pervasive that I should get extra credit for at least typing in the two extra letters, "yo". I'm no slacker.) Easy as it is to criticize Facebook and the other social media that have largely replaced other forms of written communication, they have led me back into the deadline game. Among the 134 friends I've managed to collect on Facebook (and what better use for social media than friend collecting, even if the word "friend" has been stretched beyond credibility?), some are former colleagues from my days in the newspaper business, including the editor of this publication. She begged me (read: asked me once) to submit a monthly column, and here I am. On a monthly basis, I'll be testing whether
Vonnegut's definition of a writer still holds. Thanks for the
opportunity, Shirley - and for the reassurance, Kurt.
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Kurt Vonnegut is credited with defining a writer
as someone who hates to write.
Cheshire Cat
Truly Calhoun
Songs of