while I'm here...
Jun. 10th, 2005 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pantryslutThis mini-rant (if that’s really what it is) is not directed at anybody in particular. Just so you know.
At WisCon, I was talking to a semi-famous authorly friend of mine, K. She was apologizing to another friend for using a joke of hers in a story without asking permission first.
“Wow,” I said. “That is so ethical of you. I admire that.” Then I laughed. “Because that is so not me.”
I went on to explain: I am like a magpie. If it’s glittery and portable, I will steal it and weave it into my nest. I will have no shame and no remorse about this. None.
I have other writerly friends who follow K.’s example, more or less. They have a standard of ethics around what they do and do not write. Sometimes I admire it, and sometimes I am bewildered by it.
Nevertheless.
Though I am a magpie, and all material that happens around me in my life is fodder for my writing, there’s one thing that really gets under my skin. People who use their Art and their Muse as an excuse to write what they want, act how they want, blow off commitments (except the ones that flatter their Art, of course), and generally act like a flake, or an asshole.
Because Art is a higher calling, dontcha know. One Must Obey The Muse. Besides, life is art and art is life and we should all live as if we were creating art anyway. It’s better, more beautiful, that way.
Bullshit.
It was![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amarama, on BART earlier this week, who nailed it for me, albeit in a different context. “’It’s a meditation’,” she said with venom. “That’s what [my roommate?] always used to say: ‘washing dishes is a meditation.’”
“It can be a meditation,” I replied. “But even when it isn’t, the dishes need to get done anyway.”
And we both laughed.
At WisCon, I was talking to a semi-famous authorly friend of mine, K. She was apologizing to another friend for using a joke of hers in a story without asking permission first.
“Wow,” I said. “That is so ethical of you. I admire that.” Then I laughed. “Because that is so not me.”
I went on to explain: I am like a magpie. If it’s glittery and portable, I will steal it and weave it into my nest. I will have no shame and no remorse about this. None.
I have other writerly friends who follow K.’s example, more or less. They have a standard of ethics around what they do and do not write. Sometimes I admire it, and sometimes I am bewildered by it.
Nevertheless.
Though I am a magpie, and all material that happens around me in my life is fodder for my writing, there’s one thing that really gets under my skin. People who use their Art and their Muse as an excuse to write what they want, act how they want, blow off commitments (except the ones that flatter their Art, of course), and generally act like a flake, or an asshole.
Because Art is a higher calling, dontcha know. One Must Obey The Muse. Besides, life is art and art is life and we should all live as if we were creating art anyway. It’s better, more beautiful, that way.
Bullshit.
It was
amarama, on BART earlier this week, who nailed it for me, albeit in a different context. “’It’s a meditation’,” she said with venom. “That’s what [my roommate?] always used to say: ‘washing dishes is a meditation.’”“It can be a meditation,” I replied. “But even when it isn’t, the dishes need to get done anyway.”
And we both laughed.
