Dear World

Please Kill Me,

 

How’s it swelling, my procreating (failing that sack swollen) brethren?(Change according to gender affiliation). As always I hope you all are just depressed enough to create and sane enough to realize you shouldn’t be offended.

Today I wanted to talk about actualization. Don’t worry I’m not going to go on a rant about “getting out of your own way”, nor do I intend on chastising your methods (I’m the last person to talk about perfecting and affecting progress.)

No, but I do think it would be interesting to explore it, (if you’ll humor me while your smoking, shitting, procrastinating, or whatever).

So with the release date for my book (Becoming Utopia will be available exclusively on Kindle. #Sidenote- don’t worry I’ll keep you updated), I’ve been thinking alot about how I got to this point in the process.

Any writer knows and will tell you that it’s not easy. As a matter of fact I think everyone knows that by now. We spend months (most more, some less) thrown into this infinitely expanding world we’ve created. Discovering details we’d never keep in the final draft, that entrench us almost indescribably deep into the project.

From line to line, chapter to chapter, and edit to infuriating edit, we become this sort of godly entity, fixated on highlighting the most engaging parts of this world we’ve created, for you to enjoy.

It’s easy to get lost in this universe as it manifests. Even for those who don’t finish, the entire thing is emotionally taxing and can take a physical toll ( weight gain or loss, blood pressure, sleep deprivation, self-medicating, etc). If you’re unfamiliar with this, imagine running a marathon, only to be told at the finish line, you have to do it again because you stumbled a little. That’s writing, over and over. Don’t get me wrong we’re addicted to the high of honing in on perfection, but it does affect a person.

Now, after all of that, even the editing, there’s the crowd work. That’s right boys and girls with your assholes now planted firmly at the edge of your seats. Writing the damn thing is only half of the battle.

Unbeknownst even to me until about a year ago, most of the promotion for the book is up to the author, even the one’s with big publishing deals. So now after whatever length of time it took, we have to be our own PR agent, advertiser, and distributor ( ergo why so many authors are flocking to self publish. Why do all that work just to share the profits? Short answer: you’re sharing them no matter what you do.)

So, actualization takes a strong above the shoulders kind of person, and only increases in necessary will power as you drag-ass through the battle field. So for any author you know, that’s serious about doing this professionally, or better yet has, offer them a cookie and a smile, then GO THE F#*K AWAY!. Chances are unless it’s about where to buy their book, they don’t want nor have the time to dick-around with you. #justsaying, #truestory, #yourwelcome (P.S. – no clue if those are real hashtags, I just think it’s funny)

Despite how crass that may come off, I do so simply to properly put forth the intensity of making what’s in our minds and hearts an actuality. People have died for this man ( mostly by their own hand, but still). Even bloggers, poets, spec writers, journalists, any medium. The job is always difficult, and alot of times can be overwhelming.

And I’m not putting down any other profession. I just got pissed because someone said to me “all you do is make things up, and print them out.” And sure it’s funny that they don’t get the concept of E-Books, so I probably could’ve ignored it, any other time I would. But damn it this blog doesn’t write itself, and that’s what’s on my mind, getting it done while that neanderthal jerks it to fire.

*takes deep breath, “okay I’m good”

Woosaaaaa!! ( Martin Lawrence voice),

Long story short respect the process and dedication it all takes, no matter what end of the screen you’re on. Even with the market flooded right now, alot of care went into making it. Actualization, oh what a filthy mistress.

Remorseless as always,

Antwan Crump.