Writing a book, you loaf.
Eaves ago, i would think my chapters are propaganda-in-pretty-binding, but i don’t think anyone would bother doing that at a great cost to their time, reputation or even money. I know. (I checked.)
Not even the most intimidating author would dis-respect himself — and his process, more than any current “saving the world” mantras, they connect or subject themselves to, at any cause for.
Best case scenario, it might’ve been just something people wouold do instead of hiring a PR manager — the indie book publishers wont even touch that space within a one-foot pole. A writer or author’s reticent craft, is too precious to be bothered by any inkling of social pundit-y, whether made up, or not.
It’s been arrived at, within a mile of going through a year of : “having too much time” versus “too much space / as-relented-to-versus-money” — and this inhibits the principal regurgitation that as writers, we need (as much as time travel is enabled by flux capacitors, probably) or an EMP-wave to rob a bank.
The point is simply this: there are no evil writers.
The process they go through to turn out leaf after leaf is ordeal enough.
And to make this doubly clear, it is a craft. Not an interrogation or a stifled-pride memorium of yester-years as used in propaganda. Opinions are ours. Authenticity is pledged and stuck to like glue, more than any honourable knight to his unfounded-ten-year-grail.
It is subject to — hmmmm, nothing.
A huge nothingness.
Not even a straitjacket needed — because, time told well what they travailed. They are non-anarchists. They are just outspoken, rebellious, and corrosive to their schedules-as-human-beings probably, but not to the world. They are not Jekylls-in-Hyding, they are “by nature of their chosen profession” crafty artists of their trade — the ones that paid them to be crazy, arty, and purposefully erratic and invasive and in cafés all day. In some cities, they are mocked because they are the most boring — in italian far nienté — they have nothing to do, and they relish in it, like an art form.
They are able to stare at nothing, be nothing, and merge with nothing. For long periods of standby time. This is how they come upon ideas, and forge them into weapons that martial time into a space that could move things, and imagination towards a 3D-printed reality, but other than that very encouraged, highly paid skill. There is nothing, in that ether — that writers need to fill. It is Not self-fulfilling. It needs to be written in.
Otherwise, there is a huge entire Nothing.
(INSERT blank space HERE).
And, there are no exceptions to this rule. (I checked.)
