Thinking About Writing

This week’s episode of Castle hit me in a weirdly profound way. It’s been about five years since I broke up with Malcolm. We had an amiable breakup for the first few months, until I found out what had really been going on, then things were no longer amiable. Our friendship ended (my decision), which was deeply painful for me at the time. The last two years of my relationship with Malcolm were pretty rough, and truthfully I should have ended it a year before I did, but I didn’t because in spite of the fact he’d been basically leeching on me for a year, I felt he’d also given me back my writing, something that far more precious to me than the other things. I remember sitting in a Cosi explaining this to my best friend. "Yes, he doesn’t have a job and shows no signs of really trying to get one, yes, he’s basically living on me with minor infusions of money from odd jobs and his parents, and yes, I really ought to kick him to the curb, but we made worlds together and he believed in my writing at a time when nobody else did." I further explained, "While eventually the emotional bank account on this too is going to run out, as for now I can’t just end it and put him out on the street with nothing (or back to his parents, which realistically is where he’d have gone, and this would not have been tragic for either of us)." 

When I did end the relationship (ironically, the week he got his first paycheck from the new job I’d arranged for him to get–I realized that he could support himself so I could reasonably tell him to leave), I was very concerned about remaining friends. When I found out what had really been going on, I knew I was between a rock and a hard place. Could I allow someone in my life who had betrayed me on such a fundamental level that he had even endangered my life by unthinkingly putting me at risk for STDs? Could I sever connections with someone who had stood as a foundation to my creative life when from all other sides I’d been told that I should abandon this dream, that I was going to starve, that if I continued on this path I would be disowned. (this support I’m talking about had come earlier, at the good times in our relationship). Ultimately, I couldn’t sacrifice my self respect by remaining ‘friends’ with someone who would injure me so callously, but that choice was still a wound. I was furious at him for putting me in a position that forced me to make this choice. While I am not always the most dedicated writer, while I’m not published, while I’m currently and obsessively writing fanfiction most likely as a manifestation of my issues in regards to facing my own insecurities that keep me from doing what I need to do to be a published author; while I often lack the creativity to effectively render my worlds or solve inconsistencies of plot in my work, while there are many times when I doubt that writing is my calling or that I have any good reason for doing this beyond an act of self entertainment, mental masturbation even, I still define myself as a writer. It one of the things that makes me me.

Be aware, the below contains spoilers for Castle Season 3, Episode 15.

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In this week’s episode of Castle, Richard Castle, a bestselling mystery writer who helps the NYPD out on cases is explaining to Becket, the lead detective on the show (and his defacto partner) explains why he has unshakable faith that his friend Damien is not the murderer. He says that Damien believed in and encouraged his writing when nobody else did. He says that for all of Damien’s faults (which are a legion), without Damien, Richard Castle might have been a circus performer or a lawyer or any number of things, but he wouldn’t be a writer and thus wouldn’t be himself. I give Nathan Fillion mad props for his acting in this scene (and the later one at the end where he discovers the extent of his friend’s betrayal and the resultant mix of fury and breathless emptiness which also resonated profoundly for me).

We all have things which define us and people and situations that lead us to these definitions. When those things are threatened, when we have to choose between them, it leaves a scar. An empty place. I don’t generally think about Malcolm these days. Our lives have drifted so far apart now, he doesn’t have much direct bearing on my day to day life. Except when I sit down in front of my keyboard. Or when I write about a character that grew in and from our time together. I don’t need him to be in my life to write, but those memories and events we shared are woven through my writing, and thus woven through me.

I was very impressed with Castle for taking this on in this week’s episode. It’s not the first thing one thinks of when making television drama. But I think it’s something that many of us face as an issue of self definition, especially those of us in the creative arts, who generally can’t connect a monetary value to what we do. We’re always shooting into the dark, hoping to hit an invisible mark that is in part defined by society but more importantly defined by ourselves. And at it’s heart, a little bit insane.