Suffer, Fools

How long has it been since you stubbed your toe? I mean, since you really got in there and crushed it? Maybe it was against a piece of furniture, or a wall, or one of those horrid bedframes which are horribly sharp at the right angle. Where you jam the bone against wood or metal so hard the pain takes a moment of anticipation to introduce itself like a English Baronet while you stand there and imagine what it is going to feel like ...and then crumble into a puddle as the pain proceeds to exceed all expectations?  

I’m due. And it’s been years so I’m even more careful. But, I’m starting to wonder: is that to my detriment? When does avoidance turn to overcaution? What am I missing by swaddling myself in this manner? Moving calmly about, resisting the urge to slide in my socks from room to room, taking the stairs calmly, boringly. 

I need to hurt myself more often! … I mean I do not suffer enough for my writing. At least, I don’t think I do. Because it seems that in order to write something interesting one needs to suffer then write down that suffering for others.

If this is true, it seems that success and suffering are inextricably linked, because if one suffers enough they will find success and if they haven’t found success they need to suffer more. Of the two, the latter worries me more. That implies that being published is an act of pity (or perhaps mercy).

It also worries me because in order to find non-echo-effect success again, you would either need to follow up your success with something like Speed 2: Cruise Control and deliberately demolish any and all credibility you have, or seek out someone willing to kick you in the face until you are again miserable enough to write something worthwhile.

Perhaps this means I need a meaner editor.

How necessary is suffering? Or is it merely ammunition in the constant battle of one-upping everyone else in the conversation. After all, by typing this on a computer at home aren’t I thumbing my nose and other body parts at the person writing on a subway wall in their own blood?

We all suffer. I, for example, have experienced a harrowing dependence on Dragon Tales Fruit Snacks. (When I screamed “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DON’T MAKE THEM ANYMORE?” at that clerk, it was clear I had become the monster.) Suffering isn’t necessarily more compelling, but perhaps teaches us a little more about our capacity and the steps to overcoming adversity or gummi withdrawal. 

Invariably, other people suffer more, though. Like Jan de Bont. Jan de Bont is a great example though. He not only "directed" Speed 2: Cruise Control, but was scalped by a lion in 1981. In between he filmed Die Hard and Cujo. So it’s clear he has his misery/success pattern down pat. I believe a toucan pecked his eye out in 1990 right before he filmed The Hunt for Red October. This man is dialed-in on the formula.

Maybe it isn’t just the suffering that matters. Talent has a role here, too. It takes an ability to both experience pain and to record it accurately and as close to the experience as possible. This is hard, as tragedy can occur at any time. I watched my friend break his arm when we were kids. On the way to the doctor, I asked how it felt: he said “bad.”

Now that is just a sub-par effort and needless his auto-biography has yet to be picked up by a major publisher. Then again, so has everything I’ve ever written. And while I am willing to try eating laundry detergent or snake-handling, I worry that the corresponding talent to my suffering isn’t there.

If not to record it, what is the point of our suffering, then? Are we made by our own suffering, our own experiences? Or are mistakes just how we learn? “That person is overly friendly: avoid eye contact or you will be living in a compound in southern New Mexico.”

Maybe it’s both, since we both want to grow and want to avoid suffering. So why not let other people explore having their foot cut off by a lawnmower, or writing for a CBS sitcom, or being trapped in a coffin overnight? Some people deserve the fame and the millions.

This can go too far, though. When we sit back to observe too often, we miss what may be a great experience just as easily as we miss throwing up until we can taste our own gall bladder. Similarly, too much abuse can turn a person into a side-character, to be picked apart by the observations of more credible authors. It is critical to find the right balance.

As for me, I’ve started using a typewriter. It's proven a worthwhile investment as last time, I almost strangulated myself after my shirt got caught in the carriage return. I was able to free myself with my tongue, but at this rate I'm bound to garotte myself with the ribbon or drop it on my foot. And every trip to the orthopedist feels like I’m that much closer to a breakthrough.