I’m addicted to tea. I knew this, but it became very apparent the last couple of weeks when, with my neck and shoulders having solidified into one mass, and my massage therapist despairing of me, I decided to cut out caffeine entirely and drink water. Lots of water. Water’s good! I don’t need tea.
Ha.
I am drinking an organic, herbal, honeybush concoction as I type this. I need to work tomorrow, and for that, I need sleep. Yet I’m craving the black, leaf, Yorkshire Gold imported from England sitting in my cupboard…mwhaaa. The honeybush herbal tea is a necessary substitute in order for me to write. Drinking hot tea while I write is a habit. But I can write without tea (honeybush herbal notwithstanding). After all…I also write on the bus, on my lunch break, while waiting at the doctor’s office, on the silly notebook on my iPhone if I have no paper. I can, and do, write anywhere, anytime.
Today I ran into my fellow thespian (God, I love that word), Murray Cullen. He was on his way to a rehearsal for his upcoming Fringe show, the first he’s written. This surprised me, and I didn’t know why at first; did I assume everyone I know in theatre has written something? And then he said: “Writing’s hard!” And I answered: “I’ve been doing it so long I don’t think about it anymore.”
Well. I’m thinking about it now.
I think I assume everybody has written at least one piece because, to me, writing’s like breathing…and everybody breathes. As I’ve also been pondering lately, it’s not the writing that I’m finding hard, it’s everything surrounding the writing. But writing itself…? Perhaps re-writing is harder…no, that’s not true either.
Again, this is something I knew. A big part of why I’ve never given up writing, when I quit karate, the idea of teaching, and drawing, is because it’s THE thing I’m good at. I never find it a slog. That doesn’t make writing easy. But I’ve never, ever, found it hard.