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dir/new_school/rant: W r i t i n g |
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I was asked in email today where the rest of my work is, where
I lay claim to being published. And I stumbled across finding the answer. In
truth my work is in few places, whether those few places are digital or pulp.
The places where my work is most often seen is in the comforting hands of
friends and the projects which they are driven to do. I never thought much about
submitting my work or seeking publication, I’ve always been quite happy with
doing it. And this does not begin to answer or even address why I have never
pursued otherwise.
The honest answer is that I felt insecure, for many years. Not so much about rejection, though I’d be lying if I tried to play down that rejection is a factor. I have never really felt that my voice conveys what I want to say. I have written individual pieces that have deeply satisfied me and stand out in my mind as excellent. I make no poise other then to be assertive. You should know when your work is bad, good or mediocre and I have done good work and bad and much in the way of mediocre. It wasn’t until recently in my life that I found a mentor who helped me chisel my voice from my crude writing. And I guess it’s strange to think that someone can help you find the voice which helps you define your style, but your work never shines till you find perspective, till you can see as much of what you do wrong with the little bits of right that you toss in for your crowning "moneyshot" The mythical moneyshot. KungFu has been based on the moneyshot, the sentence that I want to catch your eye and tie the piece together. It is sometimes the root of why I write pieces. I find some thought in my head and I want KungFu to be a bit more then riddling "Know it All Shaman Bullshit" haikus. So I’d slap another nine hundred and fifty words to smooth it out. And over the last six months an amazing thing happened, I found someone who began to talk in earnest to help me with my writing. This is all very interesting because this very person I call my mentor had turned me down many times and rightly so, because I had not originally asked for help, I really just wanted someone to clean up my sloppy writing. And so it was wax on, wax off, until I began to understand that I was in fact learning more then I could have ever have gained from having someone check my work with red ink. My work is crude, I am still making fire and shaping edge. I am still cowering from thunderous clouds and drawing Gods on the wall, but I am making language and I’m communicating with others and while I hunt with words, they sing with song and we have all started to dance and eat and tell our story. This is KungFu. |