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Writing Workshop Presents:

A Call to Writers by

Jack Corydon

http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/user_id/jackcorydon

     Opinions, opinions. Every good writer needs them. I've been capping my opinions when not writing--to be careful not to offend people--and it's rotted my brain into something so tame, I've found myself boring. Where's the passion? The love and the hatred? To be passionate, you need to be opinionated. I look at a man, and I try to describe him. He's greasy and paranoid, middle aged but wearing cargo blue jeans and a blue Dockers shirt, possibly insecure. He hides behind big sunglasses and a graying mustache that fans over his top lip like a womanizing NASCAR driver's. There, that's pretty opinionated isn't it? Quite judgmental on my part--even assuming. How do I really know what he's like? No time to be Buddhist when writing, it's cut-throat and evil. It's raping the clothes to get to the flesh. It's ripping the flesh to get to the bones. Breaking the bones to eat at the heart. If you can't feast on it, who will ever give a shit?

    I was reading an abandoned novel I started a few months ago, and I managed to get as far as ten pages before I was sick. I thought I was growing as a fiction writer, but I might as well have been trained as a text-book author. I've always wondered what it would be like to write for text-books, but wondering's as far as I'd like to go. It's a skill to be able to construct such a mix of nausea and boredom, but I'd rather my writing be the equivalent of fine dining. I'm a glutton with a passion for bleeding meat drowned in buttery béchamel; when I read I want to salivate, to feel sated and yet awaken new cravings. Repeat, repeat, repeat, 'til I'm fat on rich words and a rhythm gently crafted to slide over my tongue and down my insatiable gullet. It's sexual, and need never be otherwise. I want to tickle my brainwaves with fresh humor. Scrub out every instance of humdrum plaque embedded in my brain cavity and be forced to smile in public at the very thought of the world only I know.

    But the point is, writing HAS to be new. It HAS to be pure. The internal editors MUST be crushed in the gears of our unstoppable creative bulldozers until their blood tantalizes us to spin out page after page of exhilarating prose. Let the wizards of numbness amalgamate their text-book concoctions 'til the drool rivers slither over every cold classroom desk. Writing MUST continue to excite. Our opinions, no matter how unpopular, should never be suppressed but nurtured and resounded, without hesitation, to the ears of our generation. And may they reverberate onward through space and time. In everything we do, first and above all, We Must Exist!