from the Korean Army to being published

There is an oft-quoted and oft-misattributed inspirational blurb from Marianne Williamson—

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

Bullshit. I think I am powerful beyond measure. I think I am brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous. Well, maybe not gorgeous or fabulous. That sounds gay. But you should watch me play Minesweeper. Art in motion. 

I also think I am inadequate. As I am right now, at least. What I mean is that I believe myself to be full of potentiality but crippled by the knowledge of that potential coupled with the unwillingness to involve myself in anything uncomfortable or labor-intensive.

However, those who know me personally would probably not describe me in that way, don’t know the true extent of my ego. Mostly because it’s so big, it’s socially unacceptable (that’s what she said), but also because I’m inherently lazy and what I would consider my deepest fear at the present. My deepest fear is that nobody will understand that brilliance and talent. Normally, I have no problem with keeping it to myself, but in my present endeavor, recognition is important if I want to make any money (which is important to me for the reasons in Entry#1).

I had dinner and drinks with two writers, Krystn and James, last Saturday. They both have agents they did not have to query to find and their own unique psychological afflictions (“All writers are crazy,” said James): obsessive-compulsiveness and psychosomatic tendencies.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I have at least the psychological side down pat. The other week I was struck, out of the blue, with the conviction/premonition that I will have to be sent to the sanitarium in the future. It scared me only in the strength of the feeling, not the thought itself. I can see it happen. 

Through that night’s consultation and a feedback session with a former co-worker who also teaches writing, I find myself in a vastly more prepared situation (thank you, Krystn, James, and Diane) but also more frustrated than ever. The dilemma: do I write what I want in the way that I want, or do I want to make money? James’ answer: let the writing speak for itself. But all this research into the way the literary business works does much to fuck with my righteous mind. 

Second draft of my introduction to be posted sometime in the next week.

I’m just as important as him. It’s just that, the kind of importance I have, it doesn’t matter if I don’t do it. -Philip J. Fry-