The Dangerous Life of a Writer…

Following my physiotherapist’s assertion that I really need to find a better stance for writing (I think she meant physically, rather than any political leanings), I was reminded of one of my favourite Monty Python sketches that hints at exactly what sort of physical and emotional turmoil the writer can go through…

 

Clearly, there are grave risks for any would-be writer: not just the potential crippling injuries from sitting at a computer for long stretches of the day, but the concerns about potential burning from all that tea-making; the bed-sores from that office chair, the obesity risks of constant snacking, the cave-fever I undergo emerging from the dank (not too dank – I am trying to sell the place…) cellar from whenst I scribble; the feelings of identity loss as I lose myself into the character of yet another serial killer, werewolf or ‘psychotic first person-narrator-who-in-the-end-turned-out-to-be-telling-the-story-from-a-baby’s-point-of-view-did-that-shock-you?’. And that’s before we even consider the RSI, the eye-strain, the psychotic episodes at finding yet another grammar balls-up in that ‘final’ version of manuscript.

Yeah, Grandad had it easy down the mines…

Be careful writing out there – it’s a literal mine field…no, that’s not right – it’s a literary mine field. That’s what I meant.

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