What would I do if I couldn’t be a writer? the #evernighties

What would I do if I couldn’t be a writer?

I suppose I would go one pretty much the same way, seeing how after all I don’t make a living (not even close) with my writing.

But let’s suppose hypothetically that I did make a living, that I *was* technically a writer (as opposed to someone who just writes, and publishes and goes stark raving mad about her stories etc), and supposing I could not be a writer any longer ... I suppose I would go and be a cobber. 

Of course I *am* cobber, or a least a person who cobs (cobbing being the activity of building cob buildings, try to keep up, won’t you?).

I mean, I am not likely to make a living with my art, so that’s a no-go.

I probably won’t make a living with cob either. But at least after you worked you ass off all summer you get a house out of it, albeit a small one. That’s gotta count for something. Cobbing is the most satisfactory job I ever did. First of all after a cobbing day you are intensely aware in all parts of your body that you worked hard. There’s none of that “where did the day go?” nonsense. You know exactly where the day went, and your back knows it, and your feet know it, heck even your fingernails know where the damn day is gone, because they are gone with it. Cobbing occupies all your muscles. If you have no muscles you are going to get some in a real bloody hurry.

And it’s fun. It might be one of the dirtiest things you can do with your clothes on, but it’s as fun as fuck (all puns fully intended). When you are sculpting an arched niche, in wet mud to your armpits, you know in your whole body that you are creating something beautiful. Beauty, thick, gritty, wholesome beauty, gets smeared thickly all over you, from your toes to the inside of your ears, and even in your hair and places inside your tightest sports bra where you would never have thought possible.

Artists and writers tend to live in their head, way, way too much. Cobbing is art too, it's the most creative thing you'll ever do, but it brings you in full body contact with the ground. Literally. It is literally grounding. As in you end up with subsoil sticking all over you.

 

It’s brilliant. When I grow up, I will definitely make mud pies, I mean, houses.