In my mornings of writing four thousand words, in my afternoons of editing those words, I’ve struggled to rise upon the swell of creative expression. And while soaring amidst my success in crafting sentences of impassioned beauty, such humility, I’ve felt confident that the work would be a contribution to someone needing release.
With the completion of any given writing, I, as any writer, begin circulating the work for agents to review. I won’t speak to those agents disregarding my submissions because I find their disregard a commentary upon their dissatisfaction with their work: no, I prefer to comment, solely, upon those gracious souls taking the time to offer polite rejections, and, especially, those weaving guiding notes into their words.
I’ve embraced their statements because they are, to me, more important than praise, and I’ve felt uplifted and respected while being inspired to continue upon my path of individual expression. And while feeling supported, I’ve given studied thought as to what might improve my work.
We know that there are two forms of fiction, and, for myself, I give great attention to the ‘artistry’ of the written word. I do this believing that broader society cares little for such expression because it seems that they want violent perversion and distressing controversy and fantastic fantasy: for every movie theatre presenting intelligent, and passionate, beauty, there are numerous others presenting films based in the themes that I’ve just illustrated.
Yes, I’ve walked the city’s streets to confirm those words, and as I’ve walked I’ve passed a multitude of ‘hamburger’ joints: is there ‘ham’ in a ‘hamburger’? The application of the word is not nearly as accurate as when used to title the city of Hamburg Germany because, certainly, ‘ham’ can be found in many corners of that city. Forgive me as my addiction to digressing has gripped me.
‘Commercial’ is the grease beneath the footing of society, and, as is my belief, we’re slipping. We sit in the glow of flashing lights and animated life to be pulled into storylines requiring no thought or emotion. We, willing, pay to be distracted from our intelligent minds, and when these films end we step into the silver fog of burning grease to ingest ‘hamburgers.’
We clog our carotid arteries to stop the flow of blood to the mass of real meat screaming to be fed. And while I’ve eaten these ‘hamburgers,’ and appreciated them for their complete absence, I’ve never surrendered myself to them. I offer the same to all writing because, as with any food, choice is dictated by personal taste.
Simply, ‘artistry’ of the written word is essential to my life as its richness fills my fingers with the passion that pours over the keys of my computer. It feeds the glow that, daily, fills my body with such excitement that I religiously comprise notes for works that may never be written because I’ve arrived at writing in mid-life. Still, I persist, in disregard of all distraction, because without these notes my life would possess as much worth as the stained paper wrapper enrobing a ‘hamburger.’
Clarification, I place ‘hamburger’ in quotes because I am using the word of others. Simply, in attempt of accuracy, I call them burgers.