From time to time I have crossed that sacred imaginary line between reader and writer, interjecting my opinion or possibly shedding light on an overlooked detail, inference or path misconstrued. For me to do this is to risk total rejection from some and maybe all of the very, very, few sets of eyes on this work. But in my defense, I am not really a ‘Writer’. No, no, no, people like Poe are writers, people like the grand ole man Hemingway and the sheer magic of F. Scott Fitzgerald. So many thousands upon thousands who have come before and sat at a sprawling desk, or cafe; or maybe some insufferably hot tiny room somewhere or even a cool rooftop. Notice I am carefully not including a school or university or some training ground for those who create wonderful stories and show them to their professor, or teacher and wonder why they only get a reassuring smile or pointed out grammatical mistakes. They then look at the instructor as cruel, or petty or even jealous of the wonderful story they have written as a class assignment. The old saying, “Those who can, do, and those who can’t teach”, is one great big Gott damn lie! The saying should be “They teach, so others can do”. The guiding factor being a separate place in hell for those who set young minds down the wrong path (and you know who you are). Even a good teacher knows not how to convey to the student that the early words put on the paper by the student are not from the student. How can the teacher tell the pupil, without overstepping his or her bounds that words; their words do not come from the assignment but from the inner soul of the writer. All the land swimming in the world does not prepare you for the first gulp of water that goes over your head. The stories of writers saying they wrote the same sentence over and over so many times it almost drove them insane are true. Hemingway just wanted to write one true sentence all his life! What gets tapped out on typewriter, scratched out in cuneiform, etched in stone or just simple old pencil is not the form that tells the story. It is the story teller trying to get as close to the imaginary 100 percent conveyance that he or she can get. Not even Siamese twins get close to that number.
Photographers take pictures of breathtaking scenes, and the mundane and true ugliness in this world and present it in the best way they can. But that moment, that here and now time was their perfection. The art, the photo, the reproduction was only the shell of what was really there and now they have the proof.
So to say that I am a writer when I have mentioned those who have come before and gotten much closer in conveying to their readers; is to point to the mirror and say that’s the guy your looking for, he did it with that pencil right over there. The simple truth is I am just a wordsmith pedaling crafted letters like pearls strung together as proof that I did dive for them, I did clean them off and weed out the impure ones from my heart and soul. Oh yes, I do have that 100 percent in my head and it is a beautiful thing.
INTERMISSION OVER: Please return to your seats.