Dear World

Please Kill Me,

“Success is a numbers game…unfortunately, that number is pretty fucking high.”

That’s the exact “advice” that I gave a writer friend of mine, who’d grown somewhat disillusioned with the (discovery?) process. The truth of the matter is that no one really KNOWS what the *thing* will be. 

Will that short film you made on a shoestring budget catch the right eyes? Will that story you wrote catch fire and change your life?? Will some venerated benefactor unsheath themselves from the crowd of onlookers and welcome you aboard??? Will your foot-fetish OnlyFans FINALLY STOMP THE COMPETITION?!?!

The answer TO ALL is a RESOUNDING… “maybe.” 

I know that’s somewhat anticlimactic, but this is the reality that creatives face. 

Despite the general presumption (by most normies and every asshole) that creatives are these flighty creatures of the night, the truth is that we’re all just kind of waiting for that moment of transition. That moment where we can throw our hands to the sky and say “I MADE IT!!!” In fact, you’d be hard-pressed to find a single creative who doesn’t have some form of acceptance (or “FUCK YOU!”) speech thoroughly drafted in their subconscious. (…don’t let the vodka and sweatpants fool you… WE’RE FERAL and IN HEAT!!!)

The other truth is, most creatives—even the successful ones—never really hit that point of internalized success. Every victory simply reveals a farther road ahead, a higher ceiling above, and a series of compelled comparisons that can make you feel as if you’re moving backward. I’m not saying that to be pessimistic, nihilistic, masochistic, or superfragilistic—I say it because the solution to this paradox lies on the other side of that uncomfortable truth. 

You want my advice??? Toss away the daydreams and fantasies of some elusive finish line or Gatsby-figure welcoming you into the fold. Find a new milestone marker of success—a new understanding of what “making it” really means. This advice is evergreen, no matter what you ultimately achieve.

“But how do we do that, Antwan—you day-drunk douchenozzle on my screen?!?! How can I simply ignore the stats, analytics, likes, comments, and organic promotion that I’ve decided equate to success?!?!”

Okay, first off, RUDE!!! You don’t know what time I’m writing this!!!

Secondly…easy. Think back to when you started. Think back to that wide-eyed novice writer, painter, or smear-stained exhibitionist who had no goals or dreams beyond the creation itself. Think back to that rush of pride, anxiety, and excitement that you felt before, during, and after those initial creations. Think back to the sleepless nights of toiling over the best methods and executions. Think back to what inspired you to do this damn thing in the first place. Remember the excitement and dread that filled your loins as you presented them to the world.

Have you got it??? Can you see it??? Do you remember how it feels???

If you do and you can, then CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU’VE MADE IT!!!

Keep that as your North Star: re-centering, factory reset, retrospective perspective, or final wipe with a moist towelette that glides seamlessly to the fore, unripped and perfectly placed. Then let it go, flush, and go again. Because “making it” isn’t a number, a crowd, or some euphoric moment—making it is MAKING IT—then making more.

If you keep that in mind, then you can make it every day. 

When you do that, everything else becomes a bonus. 

In my experience, that’ll keep you going longer and harder than any paycheck or award.

(…even though those are nice, too!)

Until Next Time,

—Antwan Crump

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Kwame Nyong’o is trapped between worlds…

In the streets of New York, he faces the harsh, material realities of a modern city. However, in his blood lies an ancient duty: a spiritual calling passed down through generations, marked by vivid visions, recurring dreams, and violent seizures. Under the demanding guidance of his eccentric Uncle Mosi, Kwame is trained to navigate his visions and wield the tools of his ancestral mantle… but legacy doesn’t pay the bills.

***SPOILERS***

Desperate to ease his family’s mounting financial and medical burdens, Kwame uses his gifts for profit—the consequences are swift and profound. As supernatural forces threaten to destroy his life, Kwame must expel his demons while paying the price for warping his soul.

From the author of Apostate, Butterflies, and The Suicide Pod, Veal explores the intersection of the modern and the ancient, weaving an intense and unforgettable narrative that’s sure to leave a scar. For fans of Black Mirror, urban fantasy, and psychological horror.