Writing is an incredible chore. If you ask most writers they will tell you this. Actually forcing yourself to sit down and write takes a great deal of commitment and concentration. You have to find a way to get the creativity and wit inside of you on to a page. I work at a call center and I talk to people all day who barely have the ability to talk like a mildly intelligent person. So I give a lot of credit to writers who can actually sit their ass down in front of their computer or notebook and actually write something of interest.
While writing itself may be hard, the biggest hurdle is the writer them self. Self-sabotage is a huge issue. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve derailed myself from writing by texting people, uselessly perusing the internet, making a snack or, the horror, I clean! You will do anything to avoid the inevitable.
These forms of self-sabotage are pretty normal and with some discipline a writer can usually overcome them. Especially when there is a deadline or a paycheck in the future. But lately I have been wondering about a different form of writers block. Sex.
Sex is wonderful. Almost everyone wants sex, whether they admit it or not, for one reason or another. Intimacy, orgasms, baby makin’. And society seems to keep reminding us when we aren’t getting any. Or that we need to be better at it. So we are constantly searching for, or perfecting, it. But sex is also evil.
Sex is blamed for creating a lot of havoc but one of the more interesting things sex is supposedly responsible for is misplacing energy that could be spent on more noble things. This is not an incredibly new idea; ask any priest, Buddhist monk or superstitious athlete. When we have sex, while it makes us very happy, it sucks us dry, distracting us from focusing on our loftier, non-sexual goals. So some people choose to refrain from it because apparently it is more honorable to not have an orgasm that it is to have one. Which I’ve always thought was stupid.
I think an orgasm is one of the most therapeutic experiences people can have. It releases happy chemicals (that’s a technical term for sure), not to mention stress and tension. After an orgasm you are calm, relaxed and either ready for a nap or to take on the world. It’s a quicker, easier form of relaxation than mediation and a lot healthier than any drug that might take the edge off. I prescribe orgasms to anyone who seems a little strung out. So in my opinion these people who swear off sex aren’t really doing themselves any favors. They are just making themselves angry and frustrated. Again, it’s stupid.
But I’m gonna admit something I never thought I would. I’m ashamed, embarrassed, confused. But it’s true. My desire to write plummets when I’m getting some. Especially writing about sex. The fire that fuels my writing about sex is sexual frustration. But when you experience seven orgasms in one night, it’s hard to say you are still sexually frustrated. I’m just bragging now. But I have to admit, the more orgasms I have, the less inspired I am to write. Writing this blog took a great deal of effort and alcohol. More so than usual.
So is my energy being zapped by sex? Am I letting this wonderful, energy sucking force derail me from a possible career? Or am I just letting it become another distraction I use to avoid the head splitting work that writing can be?
I could give it up and see what happens. Yeah, I can’t even say that with a straight face. I suppose I’ll just have to sit my ass down and write, even if it’s a little sore from hours of pleasure. Because even though writing sucks, much like sex, when everything is flowing and you are in the moment, it’s really fucking fun.