It’s a New Year. That means there’s all sorts of feelings of renewal and rejuvenation beginning. It’s a blank slate! Except someone came along and filled it in before you could get anything done, and now it’s just as messed up as whatever you had before. But that’s ok, because it feels new, and that’s what matters. And so you feel like this is the time to fix things that you’re upset with, things that you wouldn’t otherwise have the inclination to even address.
I think that’s the thinking behind #oneaday, but at the same time, it’s more a sort of word-marathon, for people who think that they’ve got the ability to write, but perhaps not the inclination to do anything beyond what they’re getting paid for. Free words? Fuck off, I’m a professional. Something like that. But writing is a tool, and it gets blunt awfully fast. I mean just look at those two paragraphs; I’ve only taken a week or two break for Christmas, and already I’ve had to lean on an expletive for comic effect. I’ve got lazy, and sloppy, and I’m basically just whacking you over the head with a blunt sword that isn’t even all that hard any more. Flaccid, perhaps. Gah, look, now I’m moving into sexual metaphors. This is a mess.
So anyway, I’m going to give #oneaday a go. Because I did it once before, for a good long time, back in 2008. And that’s what got me to my tenuous position right here, at least in my eyes. It was a place for me to just start whacking my writing at a dummy, with hardly anyone able to look at quite how badly I was doing. I was a brute, flailing wildly because it I thought it looked cool, and it was a much better way of venting my anger at the amenities of life than shouting at my friends. Not that I didn’t do that too, but there’s only so much they can take before they end up shuffling down the sofa away from you whenever you sit down. Although I did appreciate the space.
The other thing is, if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it purely as a selfish exercise. Anything genuinely good I’m hardly going to throw up here, unless it’s either a) nothing to do with games, or b) so nuts no one is going to publish it. That does give me a lot of freedom, yes, but at the same time, I do spend an awful lot of time thinking about games, and just as long trying not to be completely crazy on a day by day basis. So perhaps I’m damning myself to a prison of my own construct. Rousseau would hang his head, give it a slight shake, and wander off into the French Countryside.
The other reason it’s selfish is because I don’t expect anyone seriously to read it. I’m sure this blog is hiding in the corner of a few people’s RSS readers, sad and ignored, because it hasn’t been updated for half a year. So, to you few, I apologise for the near future. It might get a little odd, a little exploratory, and maybe be a good document of the descent into madness that is living with your parents as a post-graduate. You’re going to be the few people in who happen to be looking towards the training ground while the village loon has a go at the sparring dummy. He might not be as bad as you thought, but it’s still not going to be anything worth showing anyone. Maybe.
This is for me to get regimented. I need to write every day, because that’s what I want to do for a living. I need to write every day so that when someone needs me to do some work, I’m already in the frame of mind to get that work done. I don’t need the obligatory three day warm up of thinking and procrastinating before finally putting fingers to keyboard. As someone far more succinct and intelligent than me once said ‘Anyone can write when they’re inspired. Only a professional can be inspired at will.’ At least, I think that was what he said. It was a long time ago, and I wasn’t really paying attention. Because, as always, I knew best, and that’s been working out so very well for me.
So come, stay awhile, and keep your feet off the furniture. This place might not be as nice as other’s, but it’s mine. So have a little respect, yeah?