Trying to Be Slightly Less Lazy and Cowardly

In some ways, modern life is debilitatingly easy.

If I start entering random letters into my address bar, the results are illustrative of this. From the well-worn motion of pressing Ctrl+T, then a single letter (and maybe nudge the down arrow a few times), then enter, here are some of my possible destinations:

  • Not one, but two video streaming services on which algorithms tell me what to watch, in case I was having trouble.
  • Not one, not two, but three social networking/messaging services through which I can share perfunctory interactions or else browse the idle thoughts of a number of people, almost all of whom probably have pretty similar opinions to me. At least, they appear to be annoyed by the same things.
  • A handful of news outlets, which definitely have pretty similar opinions to me, otherwise I wouldn’t be reading them.
  • Two separate services through which I can spend money to avoid having to cook or walk to a place where cooking is being done.
  • Amazon. Although, I am pleased to report that is above it on the predictive list. That being a site where a group of reviewers spare me the effort of discovering new metal bands for myself.

Et cetera. And no, this isn’t going to be a variation on ‘modern technology has made us all lazy and ignorant’ – laziness and ignorance have never needed the help, and I wouldn’t want to offend them by implying otherwise. Besides, I’m saving all of my incredibly original Black Mirror fanfic ideas for another day. What is true is that our comfort zones are now more comfortable than at any point in history, with fewer occasions than ever when it is necessary to leave them. They are also outfitted with systems of distraction whose specific purpose, more or less, is to keep us there. These, as it transpires, are simply too effective and too numerous. Without even trying, you will probably never run out of things that you know for a fact you will enjoy. The wealth of available content is such that anybody can just flop into their niche and remain there for life. Which is to say that that the creators and distributors of entertainment are doing their jobs extremely well. There’s nothing inherently sinister about that – it’s just that one side of the bargain is being held up with such oppressive competence that it actually becomes detrimental to the deal as a whole.

In no particular order, here are three of the things that I fear the most.

1: Intellectual stagnation.

2: Leaving these last gasps of relative youth with nothing to show for them, then entering the mire of adulthood having involuntarily shed all the supports of earlier life, thereby being condemned to navigate a bitter, futile existence without so much as a compass until liberated by the kindness of death.

3: Loneliness.

(The conventional joke would be to have number 3 be something cute, like ‘Spiders’, but I like this version more.)

Having ready access to unlimited, safe, challenge-free diversion is therefore terrifying. There is no more effective way to induce stagnation and hamper efforts at improvement than to repeatedly hammer somebody with comfort. Indeed, even as they see themselves succumbing to your ceaseless discharge of formulaic Sci-Fi shows and RPGs, their panic will likely manifest itself only in yet greater consumption of those chosen poisons. The same goes for just about anything in life – not just Netflix and video games. Although those are two good ones.

At the risk of sounding like a schlocky motivational speaker, comfort is laid across a bed of quicksand. You can stroll across from time to time, but if you find yourself sinking then it’s important both to escape and to conduct that escape in a way that won’t actually trap you further.

All of which is my clumsy, distracted way of saying that most people ought to push themselves more. Specifically, me. I need to challenge myself, even in ways that are entirely petty and mundane. The alternative is a kind of wretched living death, but with a really nice chair and a lot of naps.

Some people are able to expand their boundaries using an arcane combination of willpower and confidence. I don’t have any of those things. Instead, like most people, I will be relying on the illusion of accountability.

A popular method of weaving that illusion is through contracting somebody to join you in the endeavour, in the hopes that your bond of solidarity will prove stronger than your basic torpor and cowardice. It might. In any case, however, there is no buddy who is as reliable as the uncaring void of the internet.

Therefore, I’m doing it here. Every week I’m going to set myself a small, pointless challenge or activity, something that I would never otherwise do, and every week I’m going to report back on how the last week’s effort went. The results might be interesting or entertaining, or they might not be. Unimportant. As a feeble act of defiance against the descent into honeyed oblivion, hopefully it will work.

This week’s goal: Draw a convincing approximation of a human.

To illustrate exactly how pathetic the ‘challenge’ is allowed to be, here’s one that a significant portion of people seem to be able to do with no effort whatsoever. I am not one of those people. Here is a self-portrait of me, aged 3 or 4 (somewhere in that region). I’m sorry to announce that my abilities have not improved much since. Further apologies for the low quality of photography, although I suspect a clearer image would only be more traumatic.

Drawing, as far as I can tell, is sorcery. It involves tapping into some innate well of mystic power to which I have no access. People who are proficient at arranging lines such that they resemble things often claim that their abilities are the results of ‘hard work’ and ‘practice’. It is my firm belief that this is one of those areas in which diligence can make a skillful practitioner out of a competent one, but where the gulf between incapable and capable simply cannot be bridged. All past attempts have resulted in swift capitulation. But, foolishly, I’m still going to try.

Communication sometimes feels like you’re conducting a sequence of jailbreaks, where your ideas and emotions are the inmates and your mind is the prison. Your success in these attempts will often be determined by your command of the various methods through which internal concepts can be externalised with acceptably minimal loss of information. Those methods are dizzyingly numerous, but they are far from equal in their application. Body language, for example, is very good at conveying social discomfort but would be a poor choice for your comprehensive history of the Punic Wars. For that, you would probably want prose writing, which is pretty versatile but noticeably inferior to more specialised options when the latter are in their element. For example, suppose you wanted to show what somebody looked like. You could probably muster up a decent written description, but its communicative effect would be dwarfed by that of a competent drawing.

But imagine, if you could only draw a convincing approximation of a human. A whole new universe of possibilities. Really, though, the aim is just to give up after a week rather than after an hour.

We’ll see how it goes. That’s all for now.


Well, I’m back to putting words on the internet. To the three people who may have noticed an absence, I apologise. To everybody else, I apologise for the opposite reason.

I had stopped posting things here mainly because I didn’t want to write short stories. There a few reasons for that:

A: I didn’t have any short-form fiction ideas about which I was excited.

B: Time spent writing short stories correlates very directly with time not spent trying to write books.

C: I was in a pattern of trying to force concepts to work in fiction of <5000 words, then forcing myself to write those words. This was bizarrely stressful, given the total absence of stakes.

D: The resultant work was mostly awful.

At some point, I must have filed this outlet away as ‘place for short stories and nothing else’. A more accurate pigeon hole would have been labelled ‘place for short stories and basically anything else’. I could do reviews. I could do short essays complaining about things. I could draw a bad picture of a woodlouse, write “woodlouse” underneath it and declare that to be a valid form of content. Short stories are a lot of work, both for me and for anybody with poor enough priorities to be reading them. That unfavourable scenario can be substantially mitigated if I only write them for ideas that I feel enthusiastic about translating into shorts (less work for me) and that are likely to work well within the format (more readable for you). There’s plenty of other things that I could put here, and much more regularly.

Conventional wisdom in the field of putting words on the internet dictates that budding word-putters should pick a niche and stick to it. For those looking for ‘success’, in some quantifiable sense of the word, that is probably good advice. Unfortunately, the most that good advice can really do for you is help you to achieve happiness and stability. Those are fine, but when the road in that direction is paved with boredom and dissatisfaction, then you’re better off either finding a different road or ignoring the advice and just wandering around like an idiot. I’m not sure if the full calculus of that analogy actually works or not, but in any case my preference is for the latter. If you’re an idiot, you may as well commit to it – the alternative is working extremely hard at mediocrity.

In conclusion:

A: More and more varied content from now on. The specifics of that are yet to be determined. The process of determination will likely consist entirely of trial and error.

B: Maybe I will actually write some books.

C: Nobody cares, just be honest and do whatever you feel like.

Cii: There are a large number of potential exceptions to that.

That’s all for now.