I just purchased a new gi-normous TV. I really had to get a new one, evidently, because we rearranged the furniture. What else could anyone do?
Unfortunately, the quality is significantly better than the old TV. There is now a constant, compelling impulse to turn it on, just to see how big and good the picture is. In fact, the technical brilliance of this machine far outpaces the quality of 99% of the execrable programming available on the gazillion channels to choose from.
I am experiencing first-hand just how truly insidious and heinous this invention is. It makes you willing to watch abject crap just to see how good the picture looks. Then, to top it off, there are some actual good shows and movies and internet portals available as well. With no commercials.
Now, it is true that the voracious appetite of Hollywood demands buckets of writing, and this provides work for many of our ilk. Fine… but what about my writing? How do I choose to sit alone with only my own jumpy thoughts to entertain me as I attempt to wrangle words out of my skull, when high-grade visual heroin is calling, siren-like, from the next room?
My answer so far is to watch movies about writers, because then I can appear to be working on my craft as I avoid it. How far this strategy will take me is uncertain. The fact that I’m blogging about the issue may mean there is a crack developing in the seams of my well-armored rationale. I expect that my inner turmoil will boil and fester until I eventually make some rigid rules about when I can allow myself flat screen viewing. Rules that I will violate.
Hopefully I will find ways to turn this HD lemon into literary lemonade as I confront the most daunting challenge to my artistic fate.
Am I a flat-screener or a writer?