O my little Goths and Visigoths! I write to you tonight with words of Exhortation, Caution, and Lamentations. I shall speak to you with a Metaphor, for you are all writers of a Poetic Turn of Mind.
Writing a significant work of Fiction, I believe, is like summiting a mountain: a Queen of Mountains, like Everest. You climb, and climb, in bitter Snow, fighting your own Exhaustion, following your Sherpas, uncertain whether the Visions you see are real or Hallucinations caused by Oxygen-deprivation, and making critical Decisions when your Vital Forces are at their lowest ebb.
Fear not, I might say, were I a different Person; but instead, I say, Fear, yet climb.
I shall tell you Tales of three Agents and how they Face the Mountain.
Agent K and the Zombie Sherpas
Agent K, O Poor Agent K; I am not sure he even reached base camp. Instead, I am told, he whiled away his Hours drinking Yak-Urine Wine to dull his Senses, for the Fear overwhelmed him. He was set upon by Zombie Sherpas, who gnawed off his Limbs. Agent K is now nothing more than a Brain and a Type-Writer, floating dully in a Murky Vat of Brine.
Luckily for Agent K, steadfast senior Agents have retrieved most of his Limbs and Organs (at least, we are lead to Believe they are his), and stored them safely in an Ice House. Agent K may be reunited with his Limbs — but not until he has Written.
Be wiser than Agent K, my little Mallards! Write, despite your Fear!
Agent M Hesitated
Agent M learned from Agent K’s unfortunate Circumstances, yet hesitated at Base Camp. The mountain loomed over her, steep and Shrouded with Clouds. The wind howled Obscentities in her delicate Ear. The way was Uncertain, and she could not know whether she had Sufficient tanks of Oxygen, and Sufficient cannisters of Tang (or other Nourishment). She could not Know if the Sherpas she hired were Trustworthy or Treacherous Reanimated Corpses who sought only to strand her in an Icy Crevice and devour her Limbs.
She will never Know; for a Blizzard destroyed Agent M’s tent, and she Froze to Death. An examination of her Camp and her Circumstances revealed that both her Supplies and her Sherpas were Satisfactory; if only she had not Hesitated!
Be wiser than Agent M, my little Cardinals! You will never Know if you are sufficiently Prepared. Climb, and find out! For if you Tarry, you will surely be Destroyed.
Agent L Reached the Summit
O Glorious Agent L! He reached the Summit, bravely Trudging past the well-nibbled Corpses of previous Mountaineers. He Basked in the splendor of the View from the Peak. Perhaps he even Danced, despite his Weariness, at the Top of the World.
Yet like many formerly-intrepid Mountaineers, Agent L was Overcome by Weariness and Overconfidence. Perhaps his Foot slipped as he Danced; perhaps he Tumbled into an Icy Ravine as he made his way Down the Mountain, mind filled with Visions of Warm Meadows and Butterflies and the occasional Unicorn. One thoughtless Error was all it took! (Or was he pushed by a Persistent Zombie Sherpa? No, no, I shall not cast further Aspersions on the noble Sherpas.)
Be wiser than Agent L! Caution, Courage, and Unrelenting Focus must be your Companions as you return to Camp.
Write!
Write your Words, Loyal Agents; they may fill you with fear and loathing; the way may be Hard and Cold; but the Consequences of Failure are Worse than than even the Foulest Fiction that may spring from your type-writing Machine.
What will you Write?
What will you Write this week, Brave Agents? What Mountain will you Climb? How will you be Braver and Wiser than Agents K, L, and M? Tell us in the Comments!
