Hi. My name is Michele Scott and I'm a writaholic. It's a disease, don't let anyone fool you. It's a disease that has become an addiction and taken over my life. My family claims they don't know me any more. My house looks like a combination of diasters hit it. I don't even want to tell you what my hair looks like these days. I think I've worn the same jeans now for a week. I've spent all my money on it, and yet I go back in for more every single day--page after page after page.
This is serious, people! Did you know there are no rehab clinics for writaholics? Oh sure drink yourself into a stupor, pop some pills, have sex five hundred times a day, eat through your refrigerator on a daily basis and you can get help. But for writaholics with voices in their heads, eyes glazed over from staring at the screen, head pounding from working through scene after scene, shoulders and neck aching from that hunched over seated position--there is no help. None. Nada. Zip.
But I can't quit. It's taken over my life. It's all I think about--when can I write that next page.
In fact, it's calling me now. I must sign off and start writing or I might begin shaking.
I have to ask, anyone else feel this way? Anyone feel like if you didn't write, you might actually "lose it?" I know there are other writers out there with this disease. I say we ban together and establish a rehab center somewhere in the South Pacific. Oh who am I kidding? We'd all get there and never even pay attention to our surroundings. We'd talk about writing, we'd write and then we'd write some more. It's an uncurable disease and honestly I don't want to be cured. Who is with me?
Cheers,
Michele
This is serious, people! Did you know there are no rehab clinics for writaholics? Oh sure drink yourself into a stupor, pop some pills, have sex five hundred times a day, eat through your refrigerator on a daily basis and you can get help. But for writaholics with voices in their heads, eyes glazed over from staring at the screen, head pounding from working through scene after scene, shoulders and neck aching from that hunched over seated position--there is no help. None. Nada. Zip.
But I can't quit. It's taken over my life. It's all I think about--when can I write that next page.
In fact, it's calling me now. I must sign off and start writing or I might begin shaking.
I have to ask, anyone else feel this way? Anyone feel like if you didn't write, you might actually "lose it?" I know there are other writers out there with this disease. I say we ban together and establish a rehab center somewhere in the South Pacific. Oh who am I kidding? We'd all get there and never even pay attention to our surroundings. We'd talk about writing, we'd write and then we'd write some more. It's an uncurable disease and honestly I don't want to be cured. Who is with me?
Cheers,
Michele
Comments
Don't worry, Lori, as mentioned this is not curable.