Add to death and taxes another certainty in this world. At least in my world. Writing is difficult.

Case in point: An impending deadline hangs over my head like the blade of a guillotine, yet I’m struggling once again to assemble enough cogent words for a column. I always aim for profundity. Then settle for mediocrity.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite “Pearls Before Swine” comic strips by Stephan Pastis. The first panel features two of his characters talking. “Where were you last weekend?” one asks. “I went to a writers retreat,” the other answers. The next panel shows four writers sprinting away, the pages of what are presumably their works flying behind. One writer screams. “Run. Run. Writing’s too hard.” 

Exactly.

Writing for a business journal presents an added challenge because the work’s never really done. You no sooner finish one issue than another barrels along as inexorably as dawn follows dark. I sometimes feel like Sisyphus, that mythical Greek guy condemned to forever roll a boulder up a hill only to have the big rock come tumbling down every time he nears the top.

As if any additional consternation were required, there’s evidence writing is not only difficult, but also dangerous. Deadly even. I suspect one thing has everything to do with the other.

Clearly, I’m not too bashful to complain to anyone willing to listen — or read, for that matter — I’ve long suffered for my art. Of course, that depends on the definition of suffering. And especially, I suppose, on the definition of art.

I’ve stared at a blank computer screen unable to contrive even a single coherent sentence until my eyes burned in their sockets. I’ve smacked my forehead over stupid mistakes so often I’ve risked concussion. Worst of all, I’ve reviewed my copy with sufficient disgust to make nausea a chronic affliction and Pepto-Bismol a staple.

Still, I didn’t worry until recently writing could be a dangerous occupation.
Not dangerous as in bomb technician, lion tamer or chainsaw juggler dangerous.
But potentially hazardous to your health. Enough so maybe word processing software should come with a surgeon general’s warning.

I came to this conclusion after reading a post by Emily Temple, managing editor at Literary Hub. She recounted with no small measure of gallows humor some of the famous fates that awaited famous authors as a result of their writing.

George Orwell, author of “Animal Farm” and “1984,” compared writing a novel to “a long bout of some painful illness.” Sure enough, Orwell grew increasingly sick as he wrote, coughing up blood and losing weight. He ultimately succumbed to tuberculosis.

Ayn Rand turned to amphetamines to help her meet deadlines. There’s an idea. But drugs left her emotional and paranoid. By the time she completed the manuscript for “The Fountainhead,” she was closing in on a nervous breakdown.

Then there’s my personal favorite — French novelist Honoré de Balzac. He ate coffee grounds on an empty stomach to stimulate his writing. Now, I love my coffee. But coffee grounds? Balzac reportedly died of caffeine poisoning. Just try not to think about that the next time you gulp down your fourth cup of the day.

Cautionary tales of this sort give rise to an important question: Why write? If it’s really so difficult and so bad for you, then why write? In my experience, it doesn’t get you girls. It certainly doesn’t make you rich.

But here’s the paradox of writing: There’s nothing else I’ve encountered that’s half as rewarding.

The delight that arises from a well-turned phrase and, ultimately, the immense satisfaction that comes from a good story well told more than make up for the hours of frustration, doubt and even loathing.

Yet another famous writer — Ray Bradbury — put it in other and far better words: “Writing is not a serious business. It’s a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun at it.”

Writing for a business journal is doubly fun because of what I write about.
And that’s frequently remarkable entrepreneurs and business owners and their equally remarkable ventures. In truth, business success stories can be more compelling than fiction. You really can’t make that stuff up.

Is writing difficult? Unquestionably. Can it be dangerous? Apparently so.

But is writing also rewarding and even fun? I’d answer yes. 

With certainty.

Phil Castle is editor of the Business Times. Reach him at 424-5133 or phil@thebusinesstimes.com.