Writing enrages me

Do you remember this scene from “The Shining”?

I realize now with clarity now that The Shining is about writing.

I’ve been writing on Medium pretty heavily for a month now. Writing is not an entirely new experience for me. In the past, I attempted writing a memoir (yeah, I’m so full of myself; it was ambitiously titled “A Russian”) but never quite finished it.

The experience is the same: the level of focus is unlike anything else in life. Not when I take exams, not when I run, not when I have sex. It doesn’t matter if I’m musing about something serious, or writing a humorous trash note. My immersion is extreme. This has real-life implications. I have a wife and four kids. As you can imagine, they reach out to me all the time — in person or by phone. If I happen to be writing when they do, I feel a wave of annoyance that borders with anger. I’m fucking mad actually. I lie to my wife — I tell her I have an important conference call and hang up. I raise my voice at my kids and tell them to go away. I have a lovely dog that always wants to play — Astra comes to me with a tennis ball and begs me to play. If I’m writing, I shove her away. She can’t understand why I’m so angry. And if I’m angry with my wife and kids, can you imagine what I think of my boss who is emailing…