TheBanyanTree: I Stopped Writing

[Monique Colver]

I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't know why I'm thinking of it
at all. For some time now, maybe a couple of weeks? I haven't written
anything. Not a grocery list, not a memo to self, not any of my assigned
tasks, like the blog I was to do for my networking group that I never did,
and now I'm behind on yet another one because we went and had another
meeting.

I have managed to write a few emails, and answers to questions about how to
do certain bookkeeping tasks for my audience of random people who have no
idea what they're doing and need help. But that's not really writing, that's
more on the order of keeping my business running. Otherwise, there just
doesn't seem to be much point to it anymore. Or right now. Maybe I've run
out of things to say. Maybe I'm busy with other things, things that are more
numbers and less words. Maybe I just don't care anymore. I don't know.

I'm not concerned about it. Or perhaps I am, because why else would I be
typing this at 1:00 am?

It's 1:00 am because I didn't feel sleepy, and so instead I'm at my
computer, putting numbers into spreadsheets. It's pretty pleasant work most
of the time. Tomorrow I have to call the IRS, and that's not really as
pleasant, but it's part of the job. The amenities around here make up for
the few unpleasant tasks like that.

Tonight I posted on Facebook, which I have also ignored for quite a long
time (along with Twitter etc), that I've stopped writing, and does it
matter, and would anyone ever notice if I never wrote again? It was just a
question. Lance responded with, "You would." That Lance. What a guy. His
first book is coming out soon - I've pre-ordered it and am awaiting it with
interest.

"You would." He should know, I suppose, but would I? Would I even care?
Maybe I've just attained a level of apathy that can't be underestimated.
Overestimated? Really, who else, besides me, would notice?

I'm not asking for anyone to tell me they would notice. I mean, it's been
two weeks, and no one's noticed yet, which is understandable given the level
of stuff there is to keep track of in the world these days. I barely noticed
myself for the first week. And the second week. If anything, I felt free. Or
freer. No need to worry about any of that, about writing down things that
happen, or things that don't happen but should, or anything at all. Do you
know that some people go their whole lives without writing anything at all?

It's true. I saw it on television, that's how I know.

I misspoke. A couple of people noticed, and emailed me to see if I was okay,
or if perhaps I'd been run over by a truck and no one had notified them.
These things do happen. One of my friends on Open Salon, where I usually
blog, was posting one day and died the next, dropped dead and died while
people were still commenting on her post as if she were still alive. It
takes time, after all, for the word to get out. But no, I haven't been run
over by a truck, nor have I had a household accident and had to have my
right hand amputated. Neither have I descended into a depression, and I
haven't even made a conscious effort to stop writing.

I just stopped.

No advance warning. Well, a bit of an advance warning. The days between
writing, when there hadn't been any days between writing at all, got a bit
longer, and then longer, and then I just stopped. I'm not sure it could be
classified as a warning though, since a warning would indicate there was
something to be concerned about, and there isn't, I just stopped. It's not
as if it has any sort of effect on the anyone else other than me, and I've
just been happy to not think about it.

And this? This doesn't count, because there's no content to it. It's just me
going on at length about a phenomenon that is of interest to me, and no one
else. We all have our own phenomenoms to deal with, who has time for anyone
else's? I know I don't. It really helps to be selfish that way.

So there you have it. In however many words I just used up as if the supply
is limitless (it is, but don't tell anyone I said so) I said only one thing
which could have been summed up neatly like this: I've stopped writing. I
may start again. I may not. Right now I can't really tell. It certainly
isn't keeping me up nights, despite tonight's evidence. Mostly I sleep just
fine, except when one of the dogs decides to sleep on my pillow. Then I tend
to feel a bit smothered since they're pretty big dogs. But mostly I sleep
just fine.

Maybe I've just decided not to spend my time on something that is rather
useless. Before you tell me it's not useless, let me disagree with you. I'm
not usually a disagreeable sort, but you do have to admit, with
approximately every other person on the planet writing their own stories,
one less person isn't likely to be noticed.

I'm going to do a tax return now. Maybe, if I can stay awake, I'll do two.
No writing involved, just numbers.


-- 
Monique Colver