On The Balence Between Writing And Relationships

If the recent recurrence of my love for writing fiction is proof of anything, it is probably that I was right all along: there is a perfect inverse correlation between writing and romance. For me, at least, the two can’t coexist, it has to be one or the other.

The most straightforward cause of this problem has been pointed out to me time and again; when I’m in a relationship, I sink too much time into it to allow for the writing. I can’t say I argue this point. After all, earlier this summer, the two-three hours a night I have been writing, I would have been at Moi’s house doing anything but writing. My mother delights in pointing out that writing is often, for amateurs at least, a matter of having sufficient time on hand for inspiration to strike, and the ability to clear your schedule when it does. I’ve always found it hard to say, “No, I can’t, I want to write,” and especially hard to say, “Sorry, I have to cancel because I want to write.” It’s not an excuse many would understand.

That being said, I am not sure I believe that is the only cause. It’s true that I spent a lot of time with Moi, and perhaps ignored the call of my laptop more then once to be with her. However, I’ve always felt that something else more complicated is going on too. I speak of the personal fantasy, the most widely written of fiction.

When I’m in a relationship, there is rarely a lot to fantasize about; I know who I will be with, I know them very well, I know what to expect from our time together. The effect, I’ve found, can be extremely fast. Moi and I dated for a little under a month in the ninth grade, and before the end of that relationship I had already begun to feel the effect. The level of imagination I use on a day to day basis plummets.

When the relationship ends, though, I very quickly am pushed back into a world that often seems largely a product of my imagination. I have a tendency to play in my head with the people I know, crafting situations and playing them out in my head. I can’t say if I am unique in this; maybe everyone does it. However, I have a tendency to go beyond what I assume most people would. I’m not so much concerned with how well I would handle a hypothetic situation with so and so as I am in where it could go, what their character could be. I flesh out people I hardly know until they are characters which enter into their own stories. This habit has gotten me in trouble before. Too often the people recognize some part of themselves in the characters (though I think all writers have that problem, to an extent). Still, it’s been one of the most consistently inspiring aspects of my life.

Does this mean that I have to choose between love and writing? Possibly. To the disappointment of some, I would probably opt for the former. It seems that is the direction I have always taken so far, and I admit that if an opportunity came along, I would probably drop my writing again to pursue it. However, for now, I’m taking it slow and not seeking anything out; I’d like to spend a little time adrift so that the waves of life might lend me some inspiration.

PS: Damn I’m poetic. 😉

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2 Responses to “On The Balence Between Writing And Relationships”

  1. Connie Says:

    I’m trying hard not to say I told you so…

  2. Zack Says:

    I mentioned and dismissed your hypothesis as false. Say it all you like, the problem is more complicated then you give it credit for, and I still might not take your advice. ^^

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