Making More Believe - on my birthday: Dis-spelling the neccessary aloneness of the long distance writer.

The internet is for the most part utterly fabulous; it is my technologically imaginative window on a world that might otherwise entirely pass me by. The amount of conversation, discussion, information, entertainment, stimulation etc, available to me is literally, mind-bogglingly, a phenomena simply beyond any combinational conceptual compartmental comprehension or to phrase it with just a little less alliterative awkwardness….. Doahhhhhhh.

The more metrics, measurements , memberships, groups info, cloud computing, apps, start-ups & websites stats, innovations, etc.. the more suspicious I became of these unrealities. Yet here it is, in all its multidimensional gorgeous flatness, our superb contradiction of the (un)controlled chaos of collective imagination and communication. On days like today I am compelled to humbly acknowledge the tremendous privilege it is to live in these interesting times.
Many of my friends, old and new, near and far have today given of your own precious time and attention to wish me a happy birthday, through this internet, via various social media, emails, texts, etc.. I am genuinely and without reservation, appreciative to each and every wonderfully generous and thoughtful one.

I therefore feel compelled to offer them individual and collective thanks, as I do genuinely value their presence, connection and contribution to the texture, meaning and worth of my existence, I will thank as many individually as I can, but since I’m going off-line now to celebrate with family I may not have the chance to do so, to the depth or indeed as quickly as I’d like, so maybe this post is a ‘kinda quirky auto-response birthday thank you thang’ too for those I have yet to personally thank/ respond to.

As the majority of my friends, pals and mates understand, since most are creative people in some way, form or another, there is a requirement for solitude when engaged in personal creativity, and yes my game, music, theatre, film and football friends, while team, collaborative or collective working is the kernel of all achievement, it necessarily begins for many of us on our own. And for writers specifically there is the central issue of having to exclude the world at large and retreat to our own inner and personal worlds in order to be in any way productive.

If we are blessed or fortunate enough to get to a point where we have produced something we’re prepared to show to the world, we often first turn to family and friends for responses, impressions, feedback, opinion or just some sort of endorsement behind why we isolated ourselves in the first instance, we check in, what we manage to get done, does it possess or contain any external, social, interpersonal or even human worth ? Is it or does it… work ? We writers can be an insecure bunch, its the years of rejection and critical attention that makes us ask: at very least has this some amusement or entertainment value, would anyone else actually want to read this ?

There is an irony or perfect paradox at work, as writers we eventually learn we must write for ourselves to begin to be of any worth to others, when others use their humanity to connect with me.. it is humbling, I personally do feel genuine gratitude and the blessings of my existence, it acts as strong motivation, a drive.. I want to make more believe.. I want to create more material expression, more worldly incarnation of my imaginative fantastical journeys of joy, In all humility I relish the gifts I’ve been given, the hours of despair, self doubt, confusion, the wrongness of so many failures, the blankness of defeat.

But this is the harvest and I thank each and every one who has provided seeds, soil, labour, warmth, compassion, encouragement and positive presence in my life… I thank you.