Yesterday, I finished "Can't Hurt Me," David Goggins autobiographical memoir. Goggins is a retired
Goggins success can be attributed to understanding that life is fucking hard. It's is full of pain and misery, and he is determined to not let that pain dictate who and what he would be, and what he could accomplish. He realized that almost everything in life, from the most difficult physical tasks to the most mundane chore, is really just a battle with ourselves and our ability to tolerate pain rather than seek comfort. At some point, almost everyone decides enough is enough and seeks out that comfort, because on a design level our bodies and minds are built to avoid pain. It's survival, pure and simple. Goggins realized it can also be incredibly limiting, unless survival is all you are after in this life.
This morning, I started to read the thirtieth anniversary edition of "The Princess Bride," by William Goldman. I've seen the film a few dozen times, but I've never read the novel or screenplay. I've been in a bit of a reading funk with the whole coronavirus thing, so I was flipping through my kindle library for something and saw it there, purchased a while back, and figured now was as good a time as any.
I was immediately captivated by the introduction, which details the time Goldman finally visited Florin to tour the Morganstern Museum with his grandson, Willy, at the behest of none other than Stephen King. Goldman's style of writing here is light and conversational, very much in character with the grandfather who reads to his sick grandson in the film. He sucks you in, and I was immediately confused, because an introduction to a thirtieth anniversary edition is supposed to be non-fiction, right? Well, if that's the case, where the heck is Florin, and is there really a Morganstern Museum? Was there really an S. Morganstern?
I was captivated enough to have too check Google. The answer, as you have probably realized, is no.
It's easy to judge, listening to me relate it here, but Goldman is such a great writer that, even though I knew the answer to my question before I googled it, I had to check anyway. Maybe there was more to the story than I knew. Maybe the tale was based on something historic, or inspired by, in the way Game of Thrones is inspired by The War of the Roses, among other things.
Or maybe Goldman was such a great writer that he made up the best modern fairy tale, complete with introductions for multiple editions, and kept it all in character, barely winking at us from the page, everyone's grandfather telling them a story on their sick bed.
In any case, I'm a mark. If you don't know what that means, it's a wrestling term for a fan who willingly buys into a specific wrestler's fictional character because he wants to. It makes following the story the wrestler is telling that much more enjoyable. When reading or watching a movie, we call it suspending our disbelief. It just means you are willing to go along for the ride, because its a heck of a lot of fun.
So, yeah, I'm a mark for William Goldman. I'm a mark for most good writers who keep my trust, which is to say they maintain consistency within their writing and don't break the spell by trying too hard, or changing some long accepted aspect of their own fictional universe. They keep telling the truth within their fiction, if you know what I mean. Goldman is a truth-teller, as is Stephen King, as is David Goggins.
As I sat there reading, I wanted to start writing. It's been a while. There have been dribs and drabs, as there always are, but it's been a while since I sat down with any consistency and tried to actually write something. My last attempt at a story was in February, and I talked myself off that one because I was overly critical of my own writing. That's the worst, man, when you are actually getting words down but your critical voice keeps nagging at you, telling you that its all trash, that you aren't good enough. That you are wasting your time. It's fucking painful.
So what?
Goldman knows something about pain, as does any good writer. Pain is the driving force of conflict, and conflict is the root of a good story. Goggins knows something about pain, too. He subjected himself to a ton of physical pain, and endured plenty of mental anguish, at first because that's what his life was, but later because he realized that only by overcoming pain would he actually get somewhere.
Pain is a part of life. Avoiding it is a waste of time. If you don't embrace the pain required to live the life you want, you'll still be subjected to the daily pains of just being a human, and you'll have a lot less to show for it, a lot less good to enjoy, than if you pushed through where it really matters to you.
I've left a lot on the table. I'm forty-seven, and my life is not what I want it to be. I am not the person I want to be. I've spent far too much time avoiding pains of my choosing and accepting, even dwelling on, pain I didn't choose. And my time is running out. I can't keep on doing what I've been doing, unless this life, the one I have right now, is all I ever want. It's not. I have too many things left undone, too much life left to live, to just keep on existing. It's time to embrace the pain.
As much as I love the succinct quote above, it's not very inspirational. Let me leave you on an inspirational note, one that will help us put all this talk of pain in perspective.
Listen to this man. he knows what he's talking about.
See you tomorrow.
