On Writing for Money or for Pleasure (09-15-10)
Raymond A. Umpa, Writer
I was always a writer as far as my years of experience is concerned; as far as the frisson of intense gratification every after quality article that I have done; as far as the vexation over moments where I seemed to be disembodied, lost and desperate to be back on track with my writing as whirlwind and recalcitrant fiasco just block my mind prohibiting any form of intellect, reason or thought to immigrate on it and fill it once again with the fuel to drive out words to be manifested through my writings.
I was always a writer as far as I can discern through every neural connection that transforms every idea into words is concerned; as far as the eerie shrieking of the cicadas that keeps me company each night where my drive to write always sparks a flicker of life; as far as my need for self-assertion and admiration from a world filled with silence for praising and applause; and where all I can hear is the crunching of a debilitated ladder intensified as I add weight and pressure on it as I force myself up while a part of the world is pulling me down.
I was always a writer despite the pros and cons; despite my acceptance of my failure to pursue towards a formal education on journalism brought by me preoccupation with practicality, with money, with a future that seems to be a tiny black dot on a blank white canvass even with a bespectacled sight.
I was always a writer despite of these all; but the zeitgeist somewhat concerns me now as to the real essence of why I am calling myself a writer. Before I can say I was a writer for pleasure, for self-approval, and for that sense of productivity, sophistication, edginess, intelligence and superiority that writing was providing me. I had never thought before of using my skills to generate money and sustain me with my needs. However, lately I had been blessed with opportunities that I had never imagined to happen.
Being thankful was my utmost state of mind and soul. Yet, as time went by, I sort of felt a feeling of dissatisfaction. A part of me was confused, while the other part of me was somewhat enlightened by the reality.
I was always a writer who writes for myself and for my readers; yet now with the opportunities that I grabbed, I turned out to be a writer who writes for money and for money alone. Or should I say, in a way I might be writing for my readers, as well? But, despite this big possibility I can still feel from within that I am writing for nothing or for no one simply because I am forced to write for things under the sun that are not really of my interest. Simply because, I myself isn’t pleased or left on awe with what comes out to be from each letter that I typed in on my keyboard. Yet, on the other hand, I need to write about those things because those topics are of high interest to the readers; those topics are the ones that will give me big revenue. Yes, it’s all about the money now.
I paused and thought about all of these conundrums; I realized that sometimes you need to adapt to the world in order for you to get the most out of it; sometimes it shouldn’t always be about yourself. Life isn’t about you every time. Besides, what happens to the saying, “no man is an island”? In a way, I should still be grateful of all these chances; it isn’t really true that it’s all just about the money this time. How could I say that I am writing just for that purpose when a part of the million people out there, my words ring a bell, touch lives, informs, entertains, comforts and educates them?
At the end of the day, I really don’t need to draw a line between writing for money and for pleasure. When I write for money on which I write about topics that don’t really catch my interest, I am still writing for myself; for my pleasure that will be felt on the long-term and not just a spark of the moment satisfaction. As such, I don’t have to be bothered by these concerns anymore.
I was a writer and I still I am regardless of the purpose, the form, the message, the readers, the benefits and the satisfaction incorporated from my outputs.
I am a writer despite any issue that comes and will come along my way. I am a writer and that wouldn’t be changed by any internal or external terminators seeking for the perfect moment to catch me off guard. I am a writer and I will be remembered that way. I may not live to be a hundred years old, yet through my writings I will live more than that.
Then, again I might not live another day, yet at least I have to die at peace and at bliss. Besides, I will not really leave this world, because I will always be alive not just in the hearts of those who love me, but in the core of every letter that is in black and white on all my written masterpieces.
With this, it really isn’t just about writing for money or for pleasure at all; it is writing beyond any human reason can fathom, beyond any human existence. I am writing for my legacy; for my immortalization.
----That, my dear reader is the essence of being a writer. ®