« I’m not sure what I find more depressing. The thought of all the bad books in the world, or the thought of all the brilliant ones. Sometimes I walk through my house and look at the shelves and coffee tables and bedside stands piled high with published words and think, « Geez, what am I doing? Does the world really need another book? »
Here’s an even darker thought: Maybe it’s not a question of what the world needs, but of what certain people need to do in order to cope with the world. Maybe instead of asking ourselves, « What are we doing? » we should ask, « What are we avoiding? » What larger emotional commitments does writing enable us not to make?
All these thoughts frighten me deeply.
[…]
There’s a famous story about Margaret Atwood meeting a brain surgeon at a party. After some chit-chat, the surgeon announces that he plans to take up writing when he retires. « Really? » Atwood supposedly replied. « When I retire, I plan on taking up brain surgery. »
From Reading books is definitely more fun than writing them, by Leah McLaren in The Globe and Mail.
via Bookslut.
