And now for something completely different

You can blame Sarah for this: her post this week got me thinking, and that's always a dangerous thing. It goes to strange places.

The progression is something like this - creative types tend to have something of a disconnect between head and body, and not notice the kind of discomfort that would send others screaming for the good painkillers that make you all loopy. That's what Sarah talked about.

So I thought, well yeah, I'm a pretty good example of this. I've done some pretty dumb stuff because of this. But then, I've done some pretty dumb stuff for other reasons, most of them related to being a writer and being off in writer-headspace when I shouldn't have been.

By the time I'd stopped thinking (you sort of have to focus when you're following recipes, or the results can be... interesting in all the wrong ways) I'd gotten to this:

Creative types, particularly writers, tend to have issues when it comes to dealing with the real world (for those who wish to argue over which world is real or claim they all are, when I use the term, I mean the world where your physical body resides). It's more than just forgetting little things like paying bills and so forth - a lot of us have issues with society in general. Which, for people who spend so much of their time being keen observers of humanity is kind of weird, but then, writer and weird go together. The vast majority of the writers I've met are just functional enough to avoid the delights of the mental health ward.

Yes, we Mad Geniuses are a bit saner than that, but it's a matter of degree.

Okay, that's the long rambling introduction. Now for the meat - the Kate guide to living in the real world when the rest of you wants to be elsewhere, otherwise known as playing the game.

• Everyone else is not stupid. It is very important to remember this. Everyone believes at some level that everyone else is like them and thinks like them, but writers think at strange, possibly abolished angles to the rest of the world.
• There are rules. You can't break them with impunity, but you can use them to your advantage. This is usually called 'politics' (in the office politics sense). Do not attempt to ignore the rules.
• People recognize "not like me". It's instinctive. Learn to play chameleon and hide the writer-weird. Excuse slips as brain farts.
• No matter how brilliant you are - and many of you are legitimately brilliant (no, I am not naming names: the blushes would light up the whole world) - the vast majority of people out there don't give a damn. With few exceptions we're not even little fish in the ocean. We're plankton. Maybe. Unless we bother the wrong person, and then we're dinner.
• Whether you like it or not (most of the time I find it something of a relief) creativity, especially the writer-flavor, isn't compatible with things like business or political success. Those of us who are drawn to positions of power/responsibility tend to get there because we're sick to death of it being done wrong all the time, and we just want to fix the mess then let someone else keep it all running.
• There are times when you need to be 100% in the real world. Learn to recognize these or they'll remind you. Emphatically. Usually in the form of grevious bodily harm or death.
• Learn the difference between putty and vaseline. Otherwise your windows will fall out.
• Never, ever play nude leapfrog with a unicorn.

And on that note, I leave it to you to come up with more advice, suggestions or whatever. I'm going to try to cook a turkey and do other Thanksgiving-type stuff.

Like Onto the Angels

Writers are very odd creatures. Not just speaking for myself. I mean, look, I’m quirky enough on my own, unless there is something that explains why today, in between doctor visits and a problem with the installation of the new toilet upstairs, I had an absolute need to gold-leaf the walls of the downstairs bathroom. No, don’t try to explain it. There are things even I don’t want to know.

However, compared to other writers I’m a piker. I know, in my relatively small circle of writerly acquaintance a man who has a morbid fear of bananas, another who has an elaborate routine before he can sit down to write. Being afraid of driving and an avid reader of omens and signs is not even an oddity. Every other writer I know has this issue. Other characteristics that seem way out of proportion among writers but are less alarming are a passion for cooking, working in animal rescue and oh, yes... a relative disconnect between mind and body.

Perhaps all humans to a certain extent have a dichotomy between body and mind. I know this is the theme of several myths – Eros and Psyche, for one – and it seems deeply ingrained. But for writers... well, we take it to extremes. And then we leave it all alone in the extremes with no bus fare home.

Writers, perhaps because we spend so much time inside our own heads, talking to people who don’t exist (not that I discriminate on the basis of non-existence. Some of my best friends are ontologically challenged) tend to forget that the body is there and that it’s important.
I say this as today – after several months of increasing discomfort, I sought help for a skin problem that most normal people would PROBABLY have tried to get treated within a week. You see, I didn’t think it was important compared to the stuff inside the head. Mind you, this skin issue is probably causing my frequent respiratory issues, since the two are tied in. But I just tried to bully my way through the colds and flus and I ignored pain because it wasn’t important.
The thing is that what goes on with the body affects the mind. Time and again, I note something off in someone’s writing and then find out they had a heart attack while writing the book; or they were undergoing chemotherapy, or even they were losing or gaining a lot of weight or something was going on with their sugar chemistry.

Of my own experience, there was the hormonal problem that flattened me for almost a year, in which I couldn’t muster the interest to write and deadlines made a lovely sound as they wizzed past. And there was this swine flu thingy, when I’d find myself crying because no one wanted to watch "Walking with dinosaurs" with me – for the tenth or so time. During this time I wrote an outline I can’t explain. Seemed perfectly logical at the time. Fortunately the editor is giving me a second chance.

Apparently we’re not like unto the angels, all flying-free minds and souls.
So... How do we keep mind and body in balance? Should we watch the mind when the body is slightly off? And other than eat right and exercise – which can be iffy when you’re typing for eight hours a day – what can one do to stay healthy? And more importantly, how can one develop enough self-awareness to know when he/she isn’t.

(And I leafed about an eighth of the wall, thank you so much.)