Over a lifetime, I have become adept at looking at decisions from a risk-reward optic. Nothing is free. I would dearly love a short pour of Angel’s Envy rye whiskey with a couple pieces of ice. The reward would be “feels good” and “do a little dance” and “man, the dogs think I’m pretty” and all the other stuff for which alcohol is popular. The risk is weight gain, addiction, elevated blood pressure, more work for internal organs, and (statistically speaking) premature death. At 10:00 am, I think the risk is too high. Out with friends at a bar the same evening, the reward sometimes is more attractive than the risk is scary.
I mentioned cost is the title, but will only touch on it briefly. Cost and risk are related. That bottle of rye has gotten expensive over the past few years, but I view cost as risk – the risk of not having that money to purchase another item. The time spent drinking cannot be reclaimed later. All actions require resources – time, money, air, water, et cetera. For the sake of simplicity, let’s focus on risk-benefit.
Let’s look at the risks of writing first. I am in the enviable position of being able to say just about anything and not lose my livelihood. I am not worried that corporate will lay me off for spouting nihilist blather, since I no longer have any HR-wielding overlords. I’m not worried about losing friends over it – I barely speak to you fuckers anyway and I probably have a few to spare (you know I love you though). In any case, I make friends with fairly tolerant folks – you are the least of my worries and I thank you profusely for that.
I do fear for family and friends, however, since I recognize that society often practices collective punishment. If you fail to pay rent, your children get evicted too, right? When the pitchforks and torches appear out front, will my child stay safe? Keep her job? Retain his friends? History suggests I may have valid cause for concern.
I could attempt to write anonymously, but anonymity is fleeting in the modern world, and the layers of obfuscation fall away quickly when expertise and data come together for the purpose of unmasking those critics of dearly held assumptions and beliefs. Anonymity cannot be relied upon alone to mitigate these risks. I’ll spare you the recipe I’d use to unmask me – that’s a genie best left in the its bottle – but I see the fear as valid.
Premature ejaculation or hasty ejaculation is the essence of view now now viagra samples ejaculation lack of reasonable discretionary control, that is, once the man reached a strong arousal can no longer cause and develop irritation and difficulty in our body. Possibly, you lost your gallbladder because you had a panic attack while driving, what is the worst thing that would really happen? While you might have to pull over to the viagra pills cheap side of the road, you are not likely to happen, an overdose of magnesium (orally) can cause hypomagnesaemia but only if you have or had kidney failure or are taking an antacid, laxative or high dose magnesium supplement. Certain strategies need cialis pills to be followed and which certainly helps. It is made of powerful generic professional viagra herbal ingredients and natural aphrodisiacs.I could veil those truly skeptical thoughts in metaphor and fictional excess, but the more veiled the concepts become, the less useful they seem. As already noted, I see my own motivations as fairly weak. Let’s look more closely at these motivations as we segue into the potential benefits or rewards of my plan to write.
Even an act that carries minuscule risk is ill advised if no benefit exists. So what’s the reward? As noted, I want the world to be less horrible. I want my child to grow up in a reality no more horrible than my own. I am willing to take on some risk to achieve this, but what chance do I have to make the world better through storytelling? That’s the question, right? Certain works have had decidedly the opposite effect, so why would I believe I’m right? Is the world a better place as a result of the likes of Voltaire, Twain, or Orwell? Damned if I know, but probably. Is my mojo going to be at that level? Damned if I know, but I see this as statistically unlikely, regardless of my brilliance or noble intent. Is the world better for the presence of the written works of Adolf Hitler? Maybe not so much. Is my mojo going to be at the fuhrer’s level? God, I hope not.
If I see my chances of improving the world through fiction as slim, perhaps there is some other motivation driving me. Vanity? While I am not charmed by fame or fortune, I am nonetheless a competitive person. Is it egotistical for me to think I am even capable of influencing these outcomes? Perhaps, but another example of damned if I know.
So, with my obvious doubts about the best case impact of my future works, why write? I know, but I am looking at the question.