Draft of an Introduction
I get to write WHATEVER I want? ABOUT whatever I want? All those things I’m compulsively thinking of? This creative writing thing is so liberating! I can have full control over the sequence of letters your eyes are going to read? Pretty. Damn. Empowering.
Hello world! Hello, hello, indeed!
What, restrictions? I can’t write about everything at once? Have to pick a universe, focus on something and limit the range of possibilities to a single coherent topic? It has to make sense? Jeeesus. No-one told me there would be rules. I thought I’d be making the rules. Where do you even start the shameful act of discriminating against your own ideas? Turns out creative writing is not liberating. It’s fucking confusing.
Let’s do this step by step.
Step 1 of 3 - Warming up for the Draft of an Introduction
I’m not sure if you’ve connected with what I wrote. If I have won you over. I need more empathy before I can move on. I want you to feel my pain. Let’s do some warming up together.
Imagine you could change the colour of the sky. Your decision would change it forever. Empowering, right? Forever is a long time, which colour would you choose? The paradox of choice. In your face. Licentia poetica in my face. Am I getting any empathy?
Zero. You’re being a smart-ass and thinking–red is my favourite colour, I’d pick red! But wait! Don’t be so proud. The only reason you’re able to decide is because this situation is hypothetical. It’s not going to happen and you know it. Sorry to spoil your moment of victory. Anyone ever naming a product (or, I’d guess, a baby) knows what I’m talking about.
Picking a color for the sky only sounds like fun. In reality, it would be extremely stressful! There would be no-one to ask for advice (unless you’re both religious and good pals with God). There’s also little historical evidence of what a good decision is here.
Because I have full control over how this story unfolds, I want to pause for a second and say that painting the sky red would be a terrible choice. We would all go crazy. Not to mention we would miss those really beautiful sunsets when the sky turns red for a few minutes before it covers itself in black. That’s a huge thing to deprive the humanity of. I’m not saying you’re evil if you picked red but maybe you should feel ashamed of yourself. Just a little.
Thinking of it… it would actually also suck if the sky was black all the time. We’d be so sad. If by default the sky was yellow, we would never see the sun in its midday glory. White? Kind of boring.
It brings me to a conclusion that blue is actually a pretty good colour for the sky. It’s kind of perfect. Well done, nature.
An alarming thought just crossed my mind. I used the colour of the sky as a bloody example and now it’s striking back. Does the parallel work both ways?! If the colour of the sky is already perfect and it’s a waste of time to think about alternatives, does it mean the world was equally perfect without me deciding what this post should be about? Is there a pattern there? Are those events independent? Should I NOT write? Wait, waaaiit. How did I get here again?
Licentia poetica. In your face, this time. Those are the patterns my brain is thinking. I am so sorry.
I’m smiling to myself. I can swear or say things that make no sense. Cause–if I don’t make sense–is it really me who doesn’t know what I am talking about? Or maybe it’s you who don’t understand the depth of my thoughts? Ha! Creative writing strikes back. I can start sentences, never end them and call it intentional. I can have attention span of a squirrel and it’s all good because… What was I saying?
The cognitive value of what you just read is questionable. It doesn’t matter because it’s just a warm-up for the draft of my introduction.
I’m pressing “Cmd+A”, “Delete”. No-one will ever read this.