To be a writer

To be a writer is to be many things, and before one considers putting pen to paper and writing those first, flurrying words, let me tell you: it is too late. Those who are writers, and who aspire to be, are so far gone in their trade that it is best that one remains out of it all. To be a writer, one cannot be the average hoo-bob that sits around and talks of philosophy or science. To be a writer, one cannot, must not be arrogant, nor foolish, nor susceptible to the whims of mankind, for if they are, they'll never get done what needs to get done. Or, if they remain so, then the process of writing will wear them down. After putting finger to keyboard, the most arrogant man will have been humbled before the power of the idea, and the fool will have sat with himself long enough to have become wise. He who engages in alcoholism and drugs for recreational purposes will unlearn his addiction, for writing will replace whatever lust he had for substance abuse. He would never have time to drink, anyway—the writer is an insomniac. The writer will stay up late, fingers tapping away the hours like a telegraph, until one blink takes the writer from seven p.m. to seven a.m., and a full novel is written. The writer's eyes are sunken and hollow from this lack of sleep, but it is the best, fullest exhaustion of all kinds. It is the twilight zone between reality and fantasy, when the writer is so caught up in their tale that the beasts they have summoned begin to rise out of their words and take up sentinel around the room, comforting, resting. And once the novel is published, the beasts are not only the writer's to see—the people see them too.

For the writer is not simply an insomniac who sits at their desk, typing away. They are more powerful than the strongest president or commander, the most total dictator; they can control galaxies with the snap of a finger, destroy any human or creature simply by pressing a button. The writer is a stone-cold murderer, a sadist and a masochist. They kill for money; they maim and torture for the pleasure of the people. They cause unspeakable psychological and physical pain to masses, masses of people, and they will be allowed to continue as if nothing happened. They have more weapons at their hand than all the nations' armies put together, and they can forge devices that could destroy the planet as we know it. They could topple society simply by spending a night on their computer. They have toppled societies before, and destroyed them far more utterly than any of the world's armies ever has. 

And still the writer goes on. They are imprisoned for their words, for there are people who realize that the idea is far more powerful than the sword. However, those who can see the truth fight back, demanding that the writer be freed. And so the government has no choice but to let the biggest threat to their rule run freely among the masses. What is more, they cannot stop the flow of writers, like they can stop anything else. Words are eternal; ideas are eternal. Those born with the gift of true sight, the gift and ability to see the horrors and the beauty of the world around them, are born every day. The government cannot control them, cannot hold them back.

And on the matter of true sight, it is the reason why the writer does all that it does, what with toppling societies and murdering innocents. It is all because the writer can see. Their eyes are unclouded; their eyes see all that is withheld from the general population, and it is a blessing and a curse. They go insane from a young age, needing something to cope, something, anything, and they create worlds and characters that spring to life before their eyes. And as time goes on, the visions grow more sinister as they continue to see—they have knives stuck through their hearts and are choking on the lies they've been told, the truths they know to be lies. They have oil leaking from their eyes, and write their words in their own blood. Writing is a difficult, deadly thing; it is taking who you are and spitting it out, exhausting yourself to save a people. The writer can murder, harm, destroy, mutilate, maim anyone, and yet they will never physically hurt a soul in their life, and that is the sick, twisted bit—that it is all on a different layer of reality, the layer that the writer lives on, the layer that sees the other layers. The writer is depressed and anxious and twisted and heartbroken. They break their hearts every day, and put them back together each night. Writing is an addiction. Once one starts, one needs it forever to stay alive, lest they die of lack of it, and the words in their heads come out through their ears and cause them to explode.

And somehow, through all of this, the writer is the most beautiful thing in the world. The most dangerous things are, and the writer is certainly the most deadly creature the earth has ever known. Sitting at their computers, typing away, one cannot help but admire them. They are doomed; they doom themselves to save the human species from its own impending destruction. They buy the humans time. And that is why they are beautiful, and so direly needed, so wanted in today's society. They are poisonous butterflies with broken wings. 

To be a writer is to be so many things, too many things. To be a writer is to be an insomniac with depression and maladaptive daydreaming disorder; to be a writer is to be a murderer, a sadist, and a masochist; to be a writer is to be clear-sighted and heartbroken and terrified of the world; to be a writer is to be beautiful and deadly and destructive and curing of any and all diseases. To be a writer is a lovely and dangerous thing, and so must be treated with caution.

Should you choose to become a writer, this is your warning. This is the forward to your great novel of life. This is your prologue, and beyond it is your book. Turn the page and be prepared, for it is you who will write what comes next: your world and your universe, yours to create.