Consolation Prize

The following is not about you.

“You can write about it,” is the shithead consolation prize that is awarded to me after I endure something unusually unpleasant or cumbersome. It happens after someone knows I have the tendency to write and want to point out some way I can pull something good out of a bad situation. ‘Silver Lining It,’ as it were.

Looking on the positive is a healthy way to defuse an overwhelming negative situation, though often I’m mired in the disappointment of having bad shit go down once again. But, it does help to isolate those rays of sunshine that peer through the fog, even if I’m miserable. Eventually, I will use those sunbeams to navigate back towards a positive place.

However, more times than not, someone says, ‘maybe you can write a story about it,’ it is code for ‘I don’t know how I can help you, Jason.’ Which, honestly, it’s not that bad; sometimes, help is hard to give. I’m guilty of silver lining it as well, trying to find out how to salvage a bad situation instead of offering any comprehensible support. I want to help but the situation seems helpless. Or, I don’t have the right magic words to solve the problem.

But I don’t use writing as a method of therapy. Not deliberately, at least. I imagine that some people can use their writing as therapy, as I can imagine that there are people who can speak perfect Chinese or can climb up the sides of mountains. I can’t. Not that I’m incapable of doing any of those things, but at this point in my life, I can use writing as a therapy session no more than I can climb up Whiteface while reciting poetry in Mandarin. If I wanted to do any of that, it would take a length of time and really, it’s not a worthwhile goal for me.

Not that I haven’t considered using writing as a way of expressing my experiences and in such, producing a cathartic release.  I’ve tried. It doesn’t work for me. The writing sucks and I often feel more frustrated with the end product than I do with the initial experience that caused the bad feelings in the first place. And, it’s bad, in my opinion, to rely on reality for fictional inspiration. When I see people use their own experiences as the kernel for their writing, it’s often gross. Any attempts to critique or offer constructive advice is often deflected with the asshole excuse of “but that really happened.”

I believe that biographical elements of the writer naturally come forth in that person’s writing in the style of that person’s writing. If I get into a car accident that was particularly jarring, then elements of that integral experience are going to naturally bleed into whatever I write. That experience is now a part of me and when I write, I am offering myself up in a fictional format. I think that it takes a great of discipline to completely remove the author from the piece. I think it’s possible for someone to keep him or herself at bay while producing a work, though rare. I would also think that the end result would be boring and no one would care about it.

The experiences, both positive and negative, that a person experiences influences that person. They’ll show up in art, depending on how close the person is to the experience and how potent the experience was. Depressed about scuffing my new bike against a telephone pole? My tone of voice for the night may reflect that but tomorrow, or soon thereafter when I accept the scratches and the chipped paint, my tone will be back to the point that might be considered “Jason-Neutral.” But if I were to lose a leg to cancer? Shit. My work will reflect that for a while, I would imagine. It’s hard to say.

Ultimately, when someone offers ‘maybe you can write about it’ as some bit of sunshine, it’s redundant. I’m going to anyway, whether I want to or not. Save the consolation prize for the chumps on the Price is Right. Cash is better.