I've been reading "Wish You Were Here: The Official Biography of Douglas Adams." Highly recommended book. It's very much written in the spirit of Douglas, and makes me miss him all the more. Yeah, it was released to coincide with the release of the movie, but I'll forgive it, because it's a good read.
One thing that struck me about Adams (other than the fact that he was a giant and a left-hander) is that writing was, for him, a difficult process. Editors would have to lock him in hotel rooms to get him to finish books. He was notoriously late with everything. He once famously said, "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
So why? Why why why did he continue to write if he it was so difficult for him? This is a question of special pertinence to me, because I find myself much the same way. Each word is an agonizing process, pulled from the skin of my fingers by powerful suction.
I think (and I haven't arrived at this part in the biography where I suspect the conclusion will be the same) that Adams loved having written. He loved the satisfaction of seeing his work complete and down and read. He loved seeing other people's reactions to what he did. He relished the effect of the writing.
I think I admire him more for that. Some find immense pleasure in the act of writing, but he had to tackle that like a gigantic obstacle on the road to something much more ephemeral. He did something he found profoundly difficult because he liked what happened afterwards - something that wasn't necessarily guaranteed.
It's my desire to be as strong as Adams was. I want to write and take a lot of baths and write some more (and how did he at 6'5" manage to fit in the bath? If he were still alive I'd pick his brain about that). I would like to be able to say, "Damned this may suck now, but it will totally be worth it when I'm done."
It's a thought, anyway.
One thing that struck me about Adams (other than the fact that he was a giant and a left-hander) is that writing was, for him, a difficult process. Editors would have to lock him in hotel rooms to get him to finish books. He was notoriously late with everything. He once famously said, "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
So why? Why why why did he continue to write if he it was so difficult for him? This is a question of special pertinence to me, because I find myself much the same way. Each word is an agonizing process, pulled from the skin of my fingers by powerful suction.
I think (and I haven't arrived at this part in the biography where I suspect the conclusion will be the same) that Adams loved having written. He loved the satisfaction of seeing his work complete and down and read. He loved seeing other people's reactions to what he did. He relished the effect of the writing.
I think I admire him more for that. Some find immense pleasure in the act of writing, but he had to tackle that like a gigantic obstacle on the road to something much more ephemeral. He did something he found profoundly difficult because he liked what happened afterwards - something that wasn't necessarily guaranteed.
It's my desire to be as strong as Adams was. I want to write and take a lot of baths and write some more (and how did he at 6'5" manage to fit in the bath? If he were still alive I'd pick his brain about that). I would like to be able to say, "Damned this may suck now, but it will totally be worth it when I'm done."
It's a thought, anyway.
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Date: 2005-04-25 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-04-25 09:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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