Dear World

Please Kill Me,

 

Hello all out on the receding waters of existence. Today I want to talk about something that may help those of you with any misgivings about writing.

I was recently asked by a colleague, what defines a writer, as a career, laureate, scholar, what have you. I had to think for moment, ( usually I disregard this kind of patronage). After several seconds of awkward silence, I responded that a writer is one who climbs the ladder (you all know what a ladder is, if not I feel terrible for your lower appendages). Obviously he asked what the hell I meant, and I would like to share my answer with you now.

I view writing as a ladder (for those of you just getting here). There is no particular destination, nor should there be. To write under any circumstance is simply about the climb.

The first step is always the decision. The decision to take your thoughts, incoherent as they may be, and put them on paper (and or digital paper). Admittedly this may be the hardest step. Unfortunately, as with anything else, not everyone is built for it. The chosen are either born to be great, or they work their asses off to be mediocre. Both respectable paths, though one is clearly more desirable.

The next step is the drive. The ambition, the eye of the (you get the point). Never forget that consistency, even more so than content is supremely vital. Most of us weren’t born with that gorgeous silver spoon twixt between our face anus.  

Moving on, making time for your craft is key and for those not torn away from society, all too often a barrier that becomes impossible to break down. For those who do find the time however, this may be the most genuinely rewarding feat.

After that of course , you take steps one and two, and continue your (much warned about) ascent. Dancing diligently through language and form figuring out how to properly convey what you want, how you want. 

These steps are often infinite, and lay bukkaked with many an authors decayed, lifeless corpse , lamenting their failure (yea… Probably shouldn’t of had that wine) . The true writer however, fights through the stinging pain in their joints, and proceeds beyond the jizz-corpse fields, care free of anything outside of their page. At this step, you are the tale, and your work simply awaiting your very own approval.

The next step is always tricky, nearing completion the writer starts to understand that this work, is merely an excerpt. A precursor for what’s to come. Many stop here, this battle is where we lose the mediocre. Here, the writer must decide if this is all that was to be done, or just the beginning. At this step I told my associate, and I tell you now, true Writers are made (nay), born.

I’ve always viewed what I do as a privilege that I’ve earned. I tend to lack respect for those who lack it. (Hope that makes sense). For those of you true to the bond you’ve made with your words, you understand that this is our Pearl Harbor, Vietnam, and 9/11, all wrapped up into one. A goal to be reckoned with, and with that, you are a writer. On the ladder, volunteer for an eternal climb, and in my eyes, the elite.

 

Until our hands go all “Johnny Tremaine”,

Antwan Crump