Wednesday, December 7, 2016
We Know You Are Watching
We know why you're watching.
We know why you spend evenings in the laundry room after everyone is in bed. We know what's wrong with you.
It's what is what is wrong with us.
We cannot bring ourselves to make those easy carefree connections to our fellow humans. There's a piece that isn't there between our friends and ourselves.
What is it?
Is there an academic interest in the human condition lacking in our friends? Weren't we hugged enough as kids? Is there some sort of perverse self-delusion at play that our written words will bring the fame and success our daily toils and vocational ends lack?
Is it that we're too damn shy to be the people we are except with a very small group? Maybe with just one?
Maybe not even that.
Why are we compelled to toil at ink and page to communicate something about the nature of our characters that we can't say any other way? Why is the cloak of fictive disguise our best defense against what we actually feel - or imagine we feel. Do we feel too little?
We're not like other people. We watch, Always.
That inner dialogue you always have playing? Other people don't have that.
You write for a reason.
If it is about telling a story? Relating events? I'm not buying it.
I think you've got something to say. I think you can only say it in the text on the page.
There are worse things.
Stop keeping us in suspense. Write the story and tell the events as you see them. Then, re-write the story and tell us what you could not say through other means by manipulating the characters in the events you've drawn.
It's two drafts. It'll feel good. Go with it. We're all waiting to hear from you.
We're waiting to hear from the you we don't yet know.
Show us something. We're just like you.
We're of a kind and we know things about why you are watching.
We're watching you.