Thursday, July 25, 2013
To the Starving Artists
To you, the one sitting in front of the keyboard. The one squinting at your bright-ass screen at three o'clock in the morning, wondering if you used the word 'perfunctory' in the right context. The one meticulously combing through your prose with your fingertip pressed against the somewhat smudged screen. The one determined to force another chapter out of your aching skull before you can finally drop to the pillow and go to sleep because your day job wants you there early the next morning. The one dragging yourself to something you're good at, something you've probably always been good at, but isn't your one true love like writing is, but you do it anyway because it pays the bills. The one who listens to conversations not because you want to be nosy, but because it might be something useful or interesting for your writing.
To you, the one searching desperately for a writing community, but your town is too small to have one. The one scrolling through Google trying to find a forum with other writers because you're hungry for people talking and laughing and moaning about the same writer habits that you have. The one fretting over the fact that no one's replied to your comment and you worry that you're annoying everyone and you'll never connect with them.
To you, the one who is doing well enough but not quite where you wanted to be with your writing. The one desperately hoping that you're actually good at telling a story and it's not just your friends and family humoring you. The one who quietly does the research, compiles lists and facts, calls people to ask them weird questions, and tries to compact it all into the story in a way that makes sense. The one scouring every inch of Tvtropes and Tumblr to make sure you're not accidentally employing a cliche that will make future readers hate you. The one who diligently makes mental notes of things you love in films you watch, books you read, comics and graphic novels you flip through, and television shows you obsess over, and also marks the things you hate that they do.
To you, the one who secretly daydreams about being interviewed on the Colbert Report even though your book is fiction and would probably have nothing to do with political satire. The one sitting in the middle row at a comic book or anime convention wishing it were you up there with hundreds, or hell even dozens, of adoring fans all dying to hear any tiny anecdote of your life. The one sighing wistfully as you read adorable behind the scenes stories about your favorite actors, or watch their blooper reels, and praying that someday your book will help you climb out of your shell and become someone other people can root for.
To you, the one who finally makes it to the mountaintop, looks down at the world below you, and openly admits that you're scared shitless. The one who bites your lip as you stare miserably at your rank on Amazon. The one who lays in bed listening to Aqualung and Dashboard Confessional and Death Cab for Cutie and worrying you'll never amount to anything. The one who picks through your various social media personas and ponders why you seem unable to get through to anyone, or at least it seems that way, the way that others do. The one who is terrified of being mediocre, or worse, so terrible that you are instantly wiped from the memories of anyone who knew you because your work isn't that good, it's just okay, and okay only cuts it when it's mass-produced by a corporation or the government. The one who sweats and bleeds writing and loves it to your core like a family member and couldn't stop even if you were banned from the entire Internet itself.
You are not alone.
Your dreams are not empty. Your words are not poison. You are something special. Maybe you're not Shakespeare or Stephen King or Dean Koontz but you are doing something worthwhile if only because you give a damn about your writing. Even if it doesn't soar off the bookshelves, even if you never crack the Amazon 100 Bestsellers, even if you get no reviews, no ratings, no nothing, you are still worth something. You are an author. You tell stories. You breathe legends. You have power beyond measure, even if it's only in your mind and your Word document.
To you, starving artists.
You deserve better than what you settle for. Don't give up. The world will always need stories.
And tell them without permission, reluctance, or restraint.