Almost all of us, at least at one time or another, have the desire to live forever.
It’s why we procreate, and make things. It’s why we strive to make a difference: we want to be remembered. It’s why we believe in an afterlife, and why we’re fascinated with spirits and ghosts, vampires and werewolves.
It’s also why many, if not most, writers write. We have the hope that our books will give us a measure of immortality.
Of course, achieving immortality by means of the written word isn’t a whole lot different than one’s chances of becoming rich by winning the lottery. Just count how many perennial bestselling authors there are versus the number of new authors published each year, and the number of authors who never reach bestseller status but continue to write books. We’re talking thimbles to boxcars here.
And that doesn’t count the number of bestselling authors who pass into oblivion once they die. Their names are legion.
The number of writers who achieve immortality is indeed tiny.
One has a better chance of achieving immortality by becoming a mass murderer than by becoming an author — NOT that I recommend one should do so. Just sayin’.
When it comes to the desire to live forever, I’m like everyone else: bring it on! Or at least let me live for six, eight centuries. There are so many things I want to explore and do, and one lifetime hasn’t been enough.
Writing is a relatively easy avenue whereby one can hope to achieve immortality. After all, books last a very long time. Paper books, that is. Not sure how long these ebooks will last. Software and formats, tend to become obsolete. Remember floppy discs, Beta and VHS tapes, cassettes?
Ebooks are in the same category as those acid-laden wood pulp magazines that are self-destructing because of the cheap paper they were printed on. As the pulp magazines crumble into dust, so too do media vehicles become useless junk. Something to think about.
Nevertheless, by means of stories, I can tell whoever will listen to me what I think about life, who I am as a person, what my dreams and hopes are (or were). And if my stories become popular enough, then they will make the transition to each new storage medium that comes along. After all, I can read Shakespeare and Euripides on my ereader.
My desire to live a very long life, if not forever, and to write lots of books crystalized in the wake of close encounters of the near death kind.
About a dozen years ago I came close to death due to misdiagnosed appendicitis and consequently a ruptured appendix. The doctor told me I was a lucky man. The rupture created quite a mess. Then a couple years later, I had a heart attack. The left anterior descending artery was blocked. Colloquially called “The Widowmaker” because of its high percentage of fatalities. Again, the doctor told me I was a lucky man.
Now I have been told I have kidney disease. For which there is no cure. The only treatment is to follow good health practices in an attempt to slow the progress.
Death is my friend. My mortality has been made very clear to me. It is why I write and why I have such a feeling of urgency about writing. If it weren’t for the Grim Reaper standing in the corner of my room, I’d probably get lazy and slack off.
Of course, we don’t live forever, at least in this life, and it is the only one I care about at the moment, and this life is short. Although I always keep in mind Seneca’s words, “Life is long enough if you know how to use it.” That last clause is of course the rub: we usually learn too late how to use it well. We squander the most precious and rare gift doing and pursuing what is ultimately not of much value.
Writing brings me great joy. It also helps me to become a better person. Through my characters I hone what is important in my own life and discard what is not.
Around 40 to 45 percent of us are kinesthetic/tactile learners. These folk learn by acting and playing and touching. Through my characters, I live many lives and face many dilemmas and learn many things about myself, because they are after all the people I have made in my image.
I know writing brings me great joy and that I do it mostly for the sake of writing, because I make darn little money at it. The pot of gold continues to elude me. Yet, maybe my heirs will hit on the right marketing strategy and my books will sell and I will achieve that immortality we all desire. After all, my books will be in copyright for 70 years after I pass on. That’s more or less another lifetime. That too is something to think about.
Life is long enough if we know how to use it. I may at last be getting the knack of it. We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.
Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!
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