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know write because they have no choice; it's what my friend Cosmo Leach would call obsessive-compulsive behavior. Writing, I have discovered, since I became addicted to it at a very early age, is very much like being hooked on anything. I have known both men and women who were addicted to sex; some of them would screw anything, anywhere, anytime, for any reason. Others get hooked on alcohol, drugs, even their careers. It doesn't seem to matter much; if they're hooked, they're hooked. I'll admit to being hooked on telling a story. |
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The problem with this view is that it is a far too narrow perspective of the phenomenon known as an addiction, and it is an unbecoming assessment of a perfectly acceptable way of making a living. There is the rewarding side of being a writerand that is, of course, the good story. And the session with Myron Bell only served to convince me that I was onto one. |
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I worked my way back to Saint John's, my tape machine in one hand and one eye on the often spectacular scenery. I stopped in the port city just long enough to exchange pleasantries with an old college chum and then crawled onto a flight for New York. Somewhere during the course of all of this, I made a mental note to call Brenda Cashman to see if she had come up with anything new on her project and another note to sic one of the graduate students on |
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