What Is A Writer? The words that any writer hates to hear is, “How much money have you made?” To the novice, money is the defining factor in anything. They look at Steven King and they see this enormous amount of work on sale in the supermarket, bookstores, and, of course, all the movies, and they think that is the ultimate goal of the writer. To make a billion dollars, and go around with movie stars is the dream of every person who is not involved in writing. They not only missed that boat, it is way over the horizon, and they’re still standing on the dock. While compensation is always nice you must understand just what compensation is. I don’t think anyone ever ventures off into the writing field naked, with no other options. Almost all, myself included, have something else going on when the writing bug bites. Indeed, if you have no life you have nothing to write about. The entire time I was writing music I was also in real estate. Real Estate was easy. You show people property, you buy three houses in Austin, and become a millionaire. So, I HAD money, what made me want to write? You see, that’s the secret. You can count money, but how do you count ideas? How do you weigh a human thought. Money comes and goes, but a good idea lives forever. Heck, even bad ideas can live for a long time so long as someone out there subscribes to it. Uh, communism comes to mind. Huge book by a run of the mill writer, none of it added up, millions of people following it just like rats after the Pied Piper. But a good idea? Immortal! So it’s not the money that drives a writer. To be perfectly honest when a writer becomes successful it saps the essence from their work. A struggling writer creates, a successful writer preserves. When King wrote his first work he did it for free. By the time the movies came about he’d settled on a formula that he knew would sell copy, and he used that formula again, and again, and again. I will watch a King movie, but I’ve never read one of his books. They’re boring. “Oh, Wilbur, he is the premier writer of the century!” No, you are TOLD he is the premier writer of the century, and you bought the idea. I, personally, get more out of Crystal Lee Ladamore’s “Dam Good Times” newspaper, myself. At the beginning of this book I tried to explain what my concept was, but even I didn’t know that concept was evolving, even as I wrote. I looked at the high brow, elitist publications coming out, all the news casters, politicians, analysts, and all the rest, and I could see that they were talking a very long time, but basically saying nothing. I began to cherry pick at the issues and at a party out in California I was in a discussion, when I blurted out, “Well, I don’t know anything about all that. . . I’m just a simple ol’ boy from Austin!” In no time at all I found that simple idea wrapped around most any situation. This infuriates liberals. When you boil issues down to the human level there are people who make their bones out there by fluffing up the information streaming out of New York, and L. A. and talking over the heads of ninety percent of the people listening. They MUST be smart, just look at how long they talk. Then someone like me comes along and blows them all off with simple ideas. They hate that. “It’s NOT that simple,” they say, but it is! Take Michael Brown, for instance. When I was growing up in Simmonsville we all knew, you fight a cop, you get shot. Michael Brown needed to be shot. You don’t want that DNA mixed up into the genetic pool. It’ll make more stupid kids! Simple. (Oh, you can swat them bees now.) Trayvon Martin, another case. You hit a man between the eyes, and tell him you’re going to kill him what happens next. There’ll be a quiz at the end, children. Simple Texas logic! Give guns to the Mexican cartels, some of the most violent men on the planet, and then stand back in snake amazement when they USE them. I’m a SIMPLE ol’ boy from Austin, not a STUPID ol’ boy from Austin! I think the word we’re looking for here is, “Duh!” If I make a lot of money expounding these ideas I will certainly spend it. Most likely on beer and cigarettes. I’m sixty-three, I don’t have to impress anybody, and like I’ve said, if you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck because brothers and sisters, I’ll assure you, it’s THERE! If I don’t make any, I will keep on writing because out there, somewhere, there is someone reading these ideas and saying, “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about,” and that’s the person I’m writing for! I can assure you that every penny Mark Twain ever made has been spent long ago, but are we still reading his words? Well, of course we are, because the words are what’s important, not the money! I took a hit just last night from a so-called “friend,” telling someone, “Well, he’s been writing for years, and where has it gone?” Now, bear in mind, this fool scrapes quarters for beer every Sunday morning, but he has literary advice for ME! Can I have an, “Amen?” May I never become cursed with “formula.” May I never write based on what I think will sell as opposed to what it right, and what will help mankind. May the disease of political correctness never rot my brain, and may liberals curse me until the cows come home, because after I’m gone, and the money is all spent, if I leave the world one bit better than it was when I found it then I’ve succeeded as a writer. Fifty years from now if some high school girl reads something I wrote and a glimmer of understanding ignites in her mind then everything I ever wrote has been worth it. Yours truly Bill the Butcher A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 13:26:44 +0000
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