I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane.
Edgar Allen Poe
If I had a nickel for every time my live in editrix, often referred to by others as my wife, asked me that I’d easily be a multi-millionaire. Granted, that would be if I took those nickels and bought a winning Powerball ticket, thus avoiding any hint of hyperbole. Regardless of the true number of nickels, it’s a question that has often been posed to me over the last seventeen and a half years and unless I decide to give up writing and take a vow of silence, is unlikely to stop being asked.
Over the last two and a half years, that question is most often asked about something I’ve written. Though it seems normal to me, apparently some are forced to wonder about the state of the kind of mind that would dream up blood drinking demonic statutes (click here for more on that), or a US special operations soldier putting a knife through an insurgents head in the heat of battle, or characters having arguments on the validity of soup served by itself as a meal (for the record, it’s not. Come at me!).
I’ve come to know a lot of writers either in person or through social media over the last few years. When I first started to branch out into the writing community locally, I had no idea what to expect. My local library hosts a writers group once a month and when I finally worked up the courage to go, I was worried, to say the least. My fear was the group would be one of three things: Polished authors whose exquisite prose is burning up the bestseller list who look down their nose at the self-taught newcomer who writes about monsters and explosions, something like the classroom scene from Throw Mama From the Train, or worse just one guy in sweatpants and a twenty-sided die t-shirt who lives in his mom’s basement and writes stories about an overweight gas station clerk/ space pirate who solves mysteries with his talking cat and supermodel girlfriend.
Thankfully I was wrong, mostly. Virtually everyone that I have run across has been extremely nice and basically normal, though many are a little quirky. Apart from the relative normalcy, easily the biggest surprise to me from engaging the writing community is just how supportive everyone is of each other. I was truly expecting a very cut-throat kind of atmosphere with writers denigrating other people’s work and vying for followers while trying to cut out everyone else. Thankfully, for most people out there it’s the polar opposite. Most people have been open, friendly, and supportive of other writers.
Note that in my last paragraph I said the vast majority of writers I’ve come to know either in person or online are decent people. However, there are unquestionably outliers. One, in particular, comes to mind who vociferously lamented how Disney was extremely protective of their intellectual property thus preventing him from publishing his Disney Princess fan fiction. While he didn’t elaborate on the exact nature of his princess related work, based on my past experiences with his writing, it was a safe bet that it wasn’t anything as benign as Elsa sneezing at a waterpark and hilarity ensues. Instead, there was a near certainty to be something in the neighborhood of 50 Shades of Beauty and the Beast (since the less said about that the better, it’s time to move on).
Please don’t think I’m saying anything negative about writers, I’m not. Most of them are very nice people who are just as normal as the general population. They simply have their full weird on display to the world. Granted there are some strange people out there and I think there is something to be said about someone who, in essence, wants to get paid for telling people about the adventures of their invisible friends.
One definitive positive from being a writer or comedian as well is the leeway you get from putting those strange ideas out there. If you were talking to a friend and out of the blue they told you that earlier that day they were wondering what it would be like for a clown to tear a child’s arm off then begins to ramble about a gigantic space turtle that threw up the universe, you’d have some concerns. In fact, at that point, it would seem prudent to get as far away from your friend as possible and sever all ties. A call to the authorities could be appropriate as well. However, if you’re Steven King and put that in a book, you sell millions of copies of IT and spawn a miniseries and two Hollywood movies.
I personally think everyone is strange in their own right but many go to great lengths to hide it well. Writers do the opposite and proudly wear their weird on their sleeve. While there surely are some who are little more than deviants that like to share their insanity with the world, most writers are regular people who have a story to tell. They don’t know where it comes from, but they know it needs to come out. They simply want their writing to entertain, to make you think, to touch someone, and maybe even make a point about the larger world through the imaginary one they’ve devised, but that doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with them,
I think that’s been the scariest parts of this journey for me, hearing what everything else thinks about the stuff I put on the page. Those closest to me have always known that I look at the world differently and have a sick sense of humor. By writing my worldview on a page and asking others especially strangers to read it, I’m sharing that part of myself with everyone. If they don’t like my story, how does that reflect on me? Do people look at me differently because of what I’ve created? Will they understand the nuance and reasons for including the things that are strange or macabre?
It was really hard to take the first step of letting my inner circle read what I was writing, and an even harder step to move beyond the people who are stuck with me forever and have to sleep next to me at night. However, I am so glad that I have found such a welcoming and encouraging a community of writers who are always willing to support each other.
So, what the hell is wrong with me? A whole heck of a lot, but that goes for everyone. It’s just part of being a human condition. However, like so many others out there for whatever reason, I felt compelled to share it with the world.
© 2019 Robert Crouse All Rights Reserved
