I hate the letter ‘o’. It’s obnoxious. It’s fat and round. It’s awkward (noodle). But without it, there can be no love.
The subject of all our conversations, the pivotal element of Triple J overplayed pop songs, the silence on our lips, the word on our hips, as a writer you cannot not write about love.
Whatever your task at hand may be, a CV, a report, the last book to finishing a decalogy, it is the act of writing itself that is just fundamentally tender. It is bringing ideas into a tangible existence in a way that would give Dumbledore’s pensieve a run for its galleon. It is professional writing, where you dress your blubbering feelings into a suit and tie, presentable enough for your superior yet still professing that work is a duty that you care about. It is playing God, giving life to people, giving them jobs and then taking their clothes off at the end of the day. These are just some writing things among the many general things that you cannot achieve without love.
If people are your subject then writing is like sex. And just like that, I cannot tell you the one way to love while you write because there are many ways, many people, and far too many variables for love to become a science. But here’s some advice. Love that you are writing, it is your choices and actions that have led you to this moment. You are allowed to stop, but you have chosen to not stop. Love your audience, because you cannot write in a vacuum and even if you do they will tell you if you suck. Lastly love thyself, because sometimes writing just needs to be. And by be I mean you.
Why do I have this peculiar obsession with love? And why do I keep asking you what your love felt like. Because love to me, is the greatest feeling in the world. That when I go back to what it felt like, I get taken away to the top of a mountain that I’ve never been to before. That I feel so impossibly overwhelmed by the sights that I see and that which is hidden. Because I feel the sun is rising and setting at an incredible speed over Alph the river and those caverns measureless.
Even now as I try my hardest, it’s impossible to explain other than to think of a brand new day, and a brand new world starting afresh each morning that I awake. There is a giddiness to my knees, the exhilaration in my lungs and a feeling like my heart is about to burst.