I'm a writer. I've been a writer since I was a young child and I submitted a mandatory short story as a part of a school-wide short story contest. Written on paper with a no. 2 pencil, the story fell a bit shorter than one wide-ruled piece of paper front and back, and it followed a science fiction comedy story about a day in which canines worldwide randomly espoused a comprehension of the English and began to speak. Recently, I've been thinking about what it would be like to expand on that short story. What if canines such as wolves and foxes, expressed a desire to strike at the human race, turning the story into a science fiction horror comedy with some sort of edge reminiscent of social commentary of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, and then I realized...I wrote that story when I was nine.
They, whoever they is or are, say that as individuals, we tend to be the most insecure about the things we exert some talent or affinity for. Of course, all citizens in first-world countries harbor insecurities about numerous human characteristics such as the number that pops up when one steps on a scale, the design of the face staring back at one when he or she looks in the mirror, or even how close a person's head is to the clouds (literally and metaphorically, sometimes). These are things that are somewhat difficult to control. Obviously, one can't control their height or alter the foundation of their appearance, however, and it's difficult for many to manage their diet, but then again, when a person discovers something great living inside them, and they endlessly attempt to ascertain how this newfound self-awareness can be manifested, they increasingly become insecure with each attempt at writing it.
I like literature. I often have opinions about literature that go a bit deeper than your average college student, and I constantly put forth my best effort to maintain integrity in the assessment of the canon of American and English literature. Whether it's the critique of a groundbreaking novel, an impactful essay, or a well-to-do collection of short stories by a single author or about a particular story. What about Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal. In which Swift "cleverly" wrote a social commentary essay about the deprived state of Ireland, mocking the prevalent starvation by proposing that the Irish population should allocate so many babies to be eaten. Obviously, he wasn't being literal. Maybe you enjoy how he was shoving people's faces in the fact that parents were watching their children starve to death with a sense of helplessness. Maybe you appreciate he was attempting to "make light" of a dark situation...although, to "make light" of a situation seems to me to imply positivity in an aura of negativity. Swift's writing was simply mockery. With no actual proposal of a concrete solution and an apparent absence of attempt to appreciate the grimness of the situation, am I so blind to perceive ole' Swift as just being a jerk? A classic essay, supposedly. The writings of a jerk.
Perhaps the tangent I just recently concluded threw you off, but I'm narrowing in on a theme of integrity. Also, there is the underrated significance of a novella. Some might perceive the novella as being the result of an author not being able to utilize is creativity to produce a full novel. Personally, I believe it's the endeavor of an author to strenuously make a long story short, and with that, he can say more things in less time. Whether it's a novel, a novella, or a series of short stories, I've wanted to write the next great thing, but for that thing to be reflective of the person that I am and how I perceive the world, not something that panders to the lowest common denominator disguised as the top of the tower. I really want to write the next great novel.
And there it is. I've discussed the importance of the novella, the short story, and even the essay, but I can't help but internally wish to use my writing capabilities and assessment of the English language to meticulously find the perfect arrangement of words with some form of artistry to write the next great novel. I want to write something for the generation that could become the next 1984, or Dune, or The War of the Worlds. Depending on what transpires in relation to the country within the next decade, maybe I'll write the next Animal Farm or The Grapes of Wrath. Maybe it will be something personal translated into something epic like The Road. Or, perhaps, more importantly, it will be something unlike any of the aforementioned works.
Considering I have a hard time keeping these Odyssey articles under 1500 words, surely, I say, it will happen eventually.
