I confess I am addicted to chasing possibilities for interesting new experiences.
They might be delivered in the form of a phone call out of the blue or, more often these days, as an email pinging into the inbox or a message through one of the social media sites. Then there are the voice mails (or answering machine messages as they once were), and the anxiety that comes from the terrible fear of missing some fascinating opportunity and the craving to be both distracted from that worry and reassured that I am still learning new things at a rate that will keep the addiction satisfied.
The seeds of a new story are usually unfamiliar and unexpected; on the phone it might be a foreign accent that is hard to understand (always promising), or the email might come from an unknown name at an unknown address and convey a cryptic enquiry without giving any further information. As long as there is something unknown in the offing there is a possibility of an adventure unfurling. It could be an invitation into a home or boardroom that I would otherwise be excluded from, an airline ticket to Bangkok or Haiti, New York or Rio, or just the promise of a story that will make my toes curl in anticipation.
The ‘hit’ and rush of optimism comes from the hope that something diverting is approaching, something intriguing and different, an experience that will open my eyes to something I didn’t know before.
More often than not, of course, a ringing phone merely yields up a domestic crisis or a sales call from some other person desperately searching the ether for someone who will be interested in whatever they have to sell, and there is a momentary spasm of disappointment as I realise this call isn’t going to provide any sort of high. Most emails will be spam or mundane or will quickly lead to a dead end, but the 24-hour, 7-day world that we now live in means that a golden nugget could appear from the mud at any time of the night or day. That is what makes it so tempting to check the emails at regular intervals, and to spring to answer the phone when it rings. Someone in LA could just be sitting down at their computer to type a note to me as I head up to bed; someone in Hong Kong could be ringing before dawn has even made it through my eyelids.
It is an addiction which provides a hit as pure and sweet as any narcotic. It numbs the reality of daily life just as effectively as alcohol, passes the time just as effectively as lighting another cigarette.
The next rush comes when I follow up the enquiry and my brain receives what feels like an impossibly heavy overload of unfamiliar information. I can’t believe that I will ever be able to unravel it, give it shape and turn it into something digestible for readers, sharing my excitement of discovery with them. The adrenaline is made to flow. As the weeks and months go by, however, the fog of confusion begins to clear and I start to understand the subject. Finally I am ready to write, drifting gently back down to reality once more, and soon I am desperate for another hit from a new possibility for an adventure, either physical or mental.