I’ve always dreamed; most of the time while standing over a tank full of dirty dishes or unloading hundreds of loaves of searing hot bread, about what it would be like at this moment.
Standing on the precipice of realization.
The moment when a dream suddenly stops being a fantasy and turns into a tangible piece of the world. Like Indiana Jones walking the path of the penitent man, standing before the leap of faith, I mustn’t have fear of the unknown.
Unshielded from the prying eyes of the cold, harsh realities of the public, I must let my creation out into the world. It must face the unfortunate duty of proving my worth at this freely chosen vocation by the exchange of electronic coin and critical review.“TRUE! –nervous –very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?” E.A. Poe 1843
I take heart in my knowledge of the great man as October’s cold breath and beautiful sky greets me this morning.
Did you know Master Poe struggled his entire career?
He stood at the mast of many publications and still barely made enough of a living to survive. In his quiet moments, did he question his skills and impact on the world? I have a beaten, battered tome of his works on my bookshelf; its pages dog eared and twisted by myself and both my children, a testament to his skills in life and their longevity after his death.
Master Poe might not have gotten to live the life of adventure and luxury like other writers; retiring in comfort like Samuel Clemens or travelling the world like Rudyard Kipling, but he stood up and did what he was meant to do. His life, although he might never had known it, was a win in the long term scheme of things.
Til the day he died, ideas flooded through his alcohol imbued consciousness; waiting for their turn to flood out of his pen and on to the page.
But that wasn’t enough.
Yes; his stories are twisted, imaginative, and long held as the source work for the entire mystery genre but wouldn’t someone have come along to tell his tales in their own way eventually? The real reason he had an impact is because he actually took the time to produce it and put it out there for people to love or hate.
Master Poe revelled in the idea of critical analysis by one’s peers. He could throw the hatchet as well as any of his time, earning the nickname “Tomahawk Man” for his scathing, cleaver-like reviews of others work.
Even in the face of critical and financial failure Master Poe soldiered on, owning his life, and the consequences of living it. His was the life of a writer.
Today I feel alive.
I mean, really alive for the first time in years. I have no fear of the future, because in my own way I am becoming a part of it.
Every time a page is turned, my voice; even if heard in the imagination of another’s timber and tone, is still my voice. With that one action, I have done what I was put on this planet to do.
I am owning my life as a writer.
On future project notes, kinda got distracted by the last minute stuff but am ready to get back in the creator’s chair full time. With the winter coming; which even in the presence of family and friends, is generally a long, lonely period of time, I’m sure more than enough ideas will flow freely as the ice freezes the rivers solid.
Have been checking out the local convention scene for possible public signing appearances in 2013. Am also applying for a grant locally to help finance the project while working on Issues 3 & 4 next spring and summer.
Crossed fingers and all that : )
I will probably post again before the end of the week to announce the official launch of the Kickstarter Project, The Survival Pod Publishing Facebook Page, and twitter account.
Spread the word loyal readers!!! The countdown has begun and the next time we speak, the world will be a very different place.