Normally, when I write, I do so from a computer that’s connected to the Internet. Often, I find myself distracted by my constant connection to the world. Even when I make a conscious effort to write without a browser program running in the background, or with instant messaging programs turned off, I’ll need to look up some tidbit of information to finish a part of my writing, and find myself surfing random sights, yearning for more random bits of existence.

One could say I’m addicted to information. I read a lot, but lately, nothing on paper. It’s all online. I start at one page and end up in an entirely different part of the world, so to speak. When I start, it’s hard for me to stop.

When I don’t read random bits of information, my mind seems to be in a fog. I can’t think straight, and I have difficulty talking to people without stuttering. It’s as if I can’t keep my mind focused unless I get my information fix.

Ironically, the information fix is why I can’t disconnect long enough to write as much as I’d like to. I sit down to write, and find myself drawn into my addiction. There have been times when I can’t even think about writing while sitting in front of the computer. Some days, I’ve sat down to write, only to find hours have passed before I can type more than a few words.

Still, it’s my constant consumption of information that gives me fodder for writing. Without observing the world - my world as well as the one that I am a part of - I can’t possibly find inspiration to write. After days of thinking about something I’ve come across or seen, I go crazy with my need to sit down and write to let that thought out.

So, I can’t write because of my need for information, and yet, I can only write because of my ability to consume information. But still, the biggest loss here isn’t my writing quality and quantity, nor is it the loss of time used to feed the addiction. It’s not even the difficulty I have relating with people when the withdrawal of information takes me over. No, the biggest loss here seems to be my imagination.

There was a time when I lived and breathed within my own imagined world. I produced such a large quantity of writing in those years that it’s been hard to match it since. I don’t just mean stories - all of my writing, even if merely arguing some point with a friend on an old bulletin board, was inspired by my imagination.

I’ve noticed an ebb and flow, of sorts, over the years. I spend some years living with the high tide of my imaginative abilities, only to find the low tide frustratingly barren of ideas. From experience, I know that I’m suffering from that low tide at this moment. I can accept that as reality. My problem with it, however, is that in the past that low tide can last as long as five years. I’m not sure that my mind could take another four years without the nectar of creativity nestled beneath my tongue.

I write because I must. I exist almost wholly within my own mind, and writing is the window that opens to allow my true self to peer out into the world. The person I am on the outside is an outward reflection on the person who dwells within. Few people, close loved ones only, are able to see the true man emerge.

As would anyone trapped within their own home would suffer, I have a need to open the window and enjoy the fresh air. I find it necessary to open the door, venture out a while, and come back inside. My writing, as well as my imagination, allow me to fulfill this need.

When my imagination is lacking, my ability to write is lacking. I suffer outwardly, but even more so inwardly, when I cannot express myself effectively. To foster my imagination, I need to consume information. But when that information comes without the ability to write, that information consumes my thoughts. I’m no longer able to create new ideas of my own because I have an overabundance of facts and information clouding my ability to create. Why create something new when it feels like all imagination has been used by others within the world? Why would I make a chair when I could just go buy one someone else has already created? Within my mind, I find it hard to imagine when all the wonder of imagination has left my soul.

And so, I need to express myself. I express myself through writing. The substance of writing is inspired by my imagination. I feed the imagination with information. The information overwhelms me and causes issues with my writing. I step back from information to balance things, only to find the desire to express myself through writing still there. I feed the imagination more to satisfy the need for expression, which causes an overwhelming amount of information inside my head, thereby causing me to step back more to accommodate what’s already been taken in.

If this were food instead of information, I’ve just created a cycle of gluttony. I eat to satisfy hunger, causing more hunger to eat. The only way I can break the cycle is to eat less and exercise more. The only way for me to change my situation is for me to read less, and write more.

It’s so funny to read my own words, given that for so long I’ve been convinced that my problems with writing - a lack of quality and quantity - have been caused by not reading enough. Usually, reading hones the writer’s craft. For me, somewhere along the line, reading cause my craft to become dull and ineffective.

* * *

I wrote this without the Internet. Since moving, we’ve only had the Internet on a plug-in mobile card from our cell phone carrier. I haven’t been able to continue my service from the old house, and now I need to find new service for the house we’ll be in only temporarily. In the meantime, my main computer sits on its desk in a room, apparently useless due to its lack of Internet connection.

Jill and I have been walking around the new neighborhood at night. The hope is to exercise to improve our health. I’ve put on weight this last year, and it hasn’t come off like it normally does. I find myself wanting to exercise, but unmotivated to do so. Walking, it turns out, is a good way to get started with physical activity again.

So too, it seems, that writing without constantly feeding myself information from the Internet, television, and books, could also be a good start toward exercising my need and ability to write.

With some time and practice, I could be walking far, as well as writing much.