Christopher Hitchens: An admired voice in peril

I have recently been worried and saddened to learn that one of my favourite writers and commentators, Christopher Hitchens, is battling esophogeal cancer.

I've been a fan of his since buying and reading his book, God is not Great, (twice...once in paper and once in e-book format), and subsequently googling and enjoying many videos in which he butts heads with naysayers, or converses with other favorite atheists such as Stephen Fry and Bill Maher. I've also recently started reading his autobiography, Hitch 22. His writing style is elegant and intensely literate. Every sentence is a perfect, self-contained statement which says exactly what he means to say, and leaves no room for misunderstanding. I can only dream of writing as convincingly and articulately as he does. He is a brilliant communicator and an unapologetic critic of the things he dislikes, the most notable being religion and belief in supernatural beings.

One of the memes going around asks who would comprise one's guests at a dream dinner party. Christoper Hitchens would be the first name on my list, followed, in no particular order, by Stephen Fry, Richard Dawkins, John Stewart, Bill Maher and Dennis Miller. Looking at that list, it's apparent that I have a penchant for funny-looking, outspoken, brilliant, often British, anti-PC atheists. I think every one of those men has some very important things to say to the world and I would hate for any of their voices to be silenced.

The fact that Hitchens is suffering from cancer of the esophogus in particular is ironic indeed. In many recent videos I've watched of him, he frequently clears his throat. Obviously a sign of the danger lurking within. For a man who makes his living so much with his voice, the coincidence is just too rich, and I'm sure the irony of it hasn't escaped Hitch himself. I'm sure it hasn't escaped his detractors either, though I've been deliberately avoiding reading or watching any of their vile gloating.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect their reaction. "Turn the other cheek" is, I think, one of Jesus' least obeyed bits of advice. Judging from the reactions of Hitchens supporters who've commented on the wave of theist "told you so's", there's a lot of people who are happy that Hitchens is suffering this calamity. They think he deserves it. They think it's a punishment from god...a long-overdue punishment at that. It never seems to occur to them that their reactions are completely opposed to what their god and their church teach them to do, which is to forgive, tolerate, love and support, even those people you consider your enemies. They don't see their own hypocrisy at all. No wonder this world is so fucked up.

I admire Christopher Hitchens on many levels. As a writer, I admire his incredible skill with words, and his ability to express his ideas so clearly and concisely. He allows no literary chinks in the walls he builds through which debators might access vulnerabilities. I love his sardonic wit, which is delivered with such finesse and such confidence that I'm often left in awe of his brilliance. As an atheist, I admire his ability to speak his mind, without apology, without fear, without concern for the opinions of others. I like that he doesn't hold back. I wish I had nerve and wit and intelligence like his, rather than being yet another namby pamby atheist -- I'm 100% convinced of my stance, yet I usually try too hard not to offend anyone with it, so I might as well be an agnostic or even a weak believer for all the progress I make with my opinions. Hitchens inspires me and gets my blood going, much like King Leonidas of the Spartans inspired his small army. Hitch makes me want to change the world.

It's my true and fervent hope that Hitchens's cancer treatments are completely successful and that he will be back at his writing and debating and offending the true believers as quickly as possible. I suspect this brush with ultimate fate may influence him to give up some of the habits...the smoking and drinking...that probably played a major role in putting him in this situation in the first place (contrary to what the god-botherers would say, which is that his opinions and his mouth got him in this mess). But even without the ever-present fag and glass of amber mystery liquid by his arm, I know he'll continue to be a voice of reason and intelligence in this world that so often clamours with the insanity of unprovable superstition.

Writing...I love it, but it scares me

I think I'm a pretty good writer. Better than average. I have a lot to learn, and I expect I always will...and that's as it should be.

I've been producing short stories, opinion pieces, poems, journal entries and all manner of other written works for as long as I can remember. Three of my short stories and two of my poems have been published...all of them for money. I vehemently object to the practice of allowing publishers to make money off your work and give you nothing but a couple of author's copies in return.

I've made two concerted efforts at writing a novel. The first one I gave up on twelve years ago, as it became obvious to me that it was little more than an attempt to escape from, and in some ways deal with, the pain of my marriage, which was on its last legs at that time. The second one, which I'm working on now, shows much more promise, a storyline that has nothing to do with my personal life, and takes advantage of all that I've learned in the interim.

And I've just noticed that almost every sentence in this post so far starts with "I." *sigh* Well, it IS the most common word in the English language after all. And this IS a personal blog. So you'll just have to forgive me. But I'll try to do better.

There's just something about writing that I find incredibly satisfying, in a way that very little else satisfies me. While watching television or reading or puttering around on the internet, I usually have some kind of snack on the go (surprise, surprise...HA!). But when I'm writing, I barely even stop to take a sip of whatever beverage I have to hand. Writing completely absorbs my attention, and hours can go by in the blink of an eye.

It doesn't matter whether it's a simple two-sentence email or a new chapter in my novel. I will happily write, rewrite and write again the same sentence over and over to get it just perfect. In anything else I do, if I don't get it right the first time, well, too bad, that's how it's going to stay. And there's little I hate more, in my non-writing time, than having to do something over again. I *hate* that!! I hardly even ever cook the same recipe twice...unless it's really spectacular and I can do it from memory.

Have you ever written a sentence that gave you goosebumps...made you think "wow...did *I* write that??" I have. It's the best feeling in the world. To string together a bunch of letters in such a way that they say absolutely and perfectly the exact thing I wanted to say...that's one of the most sublime things that I can experience. Writing the perfect sentence is kind of like drawing a portrait of someone you know well. Even the tiniest misplacement of a line or shadow will make the face look wrong. But when you get it right...it's sooooo right. It feels so good. I see reality reflected there. And the fact that I did it myself never fails to blow me away. I think that writing well is the most self-affirming thing I've ever done...when it works.

So, can anyone explain to me why I avoid writing so much? I waste so much valuable time doing other things that aren't nearly as creative or productive. Sometimes I literally have to force myself to go sit down at the computer where I write. Sometimes I can't even get that far. I will easily sit here and spend an hour composing a self-serving blog entry that no one but myself is interested in. But sitting down to work on my novel which I know in my heart is a winner and will sell someday...it's one of the hardest things I ever do.

For about five years before I started my current job, I used to write almost every day. It was during that time that I sold those stories and poems. I started my current job ten years ago. December of 1999. For almost the entire time since, my muse, my desire to write, has been AWOL. I've wanted to write. But I just wasn't able to. It was as if all my creative energy was just gone.

And there's fear too. Fear of failure. Fear that I'll never finish, or that it won't be good, or that it will be good and still no one will want to publish it. I'm not so high-minded that I want to write *only* for myself. I guess I'm kind of like an actor...and what is an actor without an audience?

And I'm lazy. I don't have enough drive or motivation to keep my ass in the chair, writing. That's one of my biggest obstacles. I keep reading that you need to set yourself goals if you really want to accomplish anything. That's never worked for me. Possibly the backhanded effect of living a blessed life in which I've almost always gotten what I wanted without really having to work hard for it.

I don't know what happened to bring my muse back, but whatever it was, I welcome it. I welcome Her. I imagine her as a woman named Hesta, who has a spiral tattoo radiating out from her navel. Don't ask....she's not a real person, just a vision I had once during a meditation.

I still struggle every day. And most days I lose. But many days now I win. And that alone is a success. I've written 10,000 words of a horror genre novel. I'm happy when I'm writing. I lose myself in it and it feels gooood. When I'm not writing, I'm often thinking about writing, or reading about writing, or coming up with new ideas for other stories and books I may someday write.

Perhaps you don't just need the urge to write and the talent to write. Perhaps you need the bravery to write as well. You need to overcome the fear of failure. Will I ever finish this novel? What's the use if I'm never going to finish it? Will anyone like it? Will it all have been a waste of time? Are people going to think my writing is overblown? Melodramatic? Silly??

One of the things that's got me writing again now is my friend Tonia, who is reading my pages as I go along and offering her honest opinions and suggestion. Just knowing someone's reading it...that it's not just fantasies in my head and electrons in my computer...that makes a huge difference. Knowing someone is waiting for the next few pages is a real motivator for me.

So, in the end, the answer may be that simple -- for me. Every writer is different. For me, maybe it's just knowing someone likes what I'm doing that keeps me going. Thanks Tonia. Love ya, girl.

Learning about the English monarchy

I've recently become extremely interested in English history, particularly the history of the English monarchy. It's due to the strange coincidence of having read, within a short period of time, several novels which happen to feature real historical figures playing pivotal roles.

It started with "Pillars of the Earth," by Ken Follett, which takes place over a generation in the mid-1100s. Its focus is the building of a cathedral in a fictional town called Kingsbridge. Wonderful, wonderful book...I highly recommend it, even if you don't think you'd be interested in such a topic. It will suck you in, I guarantee it. The historical character in this book is Thomas Becket. Most recently, I've finished reading "The Queen's Fool," by Philippa Gregory, a novel which is a bit like a medieval tell-all revealing the private lives of Queens Mary I and Elizabeth I, shortly after the deaths of King Henry VIII and his child successor, Edward. Interesting book, though not nearly as well written as most of the others I've picked up.

My favourite character has been Henry II, whose portrayal in Ariana Franklin's "Mistress of the Art of Death" and its sequel, "The Serpent's Tale," was truly enjoyable. She painted him as a sardonic, witty, highly intelligent and canny, and very democratic kind of king who I really liked, and wanted to know more about. So I went in search of other works of historical fiction, as I had decided that reading that type of book was a great way to learn some history.

This has led me to pick up other novels: "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Phillipa Gregory and "When Christ and His Saints Slept" by Sharon Kay Penman. Again, the Gregory book is poorly written when compared to most others, but entertaining...and there's the recent movie of the same name to save you the trouble if you don't want to invest the time in reading (I haven't seen it yet). A lot of writer's liberty taken with Gregory's books, I'd guess. On the other hand, Penman's book is written as fiction, but it sticks so closely to historical fact that it sometimes reads like a history book...more a series of historical vignettes than a story. But she does it well and makes it interesting.

The main thing that vexes me (see? I'm starting to sound like I come from the middle ages!) about these books is that they all have so many damn characters and it's hard to keep them all straight! So I've taken to keeping my computer handy while I read or watch the movies I've (gasp) downloaded. Even so, I've learned that even Wikipedia cannot always be trusted, so I usually check two or three different sources at once when investigating any particular historical figure.

And speaking of movies, I can now recommend a few new ones. Firstly, check out "The Lion In Winter," with incredible performances by Peter O'Toole as Henry II and his banished and imprisoned wife Eleanor of Aquitaine (surely you've heard of HER!). The two roles could not have been cast more perfectly and the movie vibrates with the mix of love, hate and grudging admiration that constantly travels between the two as they battle over who will succeed Henry.

I also (gasp) downloaded the wonderful six-part PBS mini-series made in the 70s "Six Wives of Henry VIII" starring Keith Michell as Henry and a parade of incredible actresses as his ill-fated wives. My favourite was Katherine Parr, his last wife, who survived him. A mature, intelligent, feisty and fearless woman who did what she had to do to survive, while growing a real affection for the king, in spite of his grossness at the end. Michell was a tad ridiculous as the young Henry in the first episode, but by the second, he was looking more fit for the role and growing into the character as well, and really got under my skin after a while. I became so attached to the characters in this teleplay that I was crying at the end when Henry died.

I've also just started watching "Becket" with a younger Peter O'Toole as Henry II and Sir Richard Burton as Thomas Becket and Sir John Geilgud as Louis VII of France. With a stellar cast like that, is it any wonder this movie won 12 Academy awards (including Best Picture) and a host of other awards. I've only watched the first couple of minutes, and then I got this sudden urge to write this blog. It's now 11:14pm, and time to away to my bed, so perhaps I'll report on it in another post...or perhaps I won't.

Good night!