Friday, November 9, 2012

Chop Wood, Carry Fucking Water

What happened is I didn't get the Journey Prize. Neither did Kevin Hardcastle. This guy named Alex Pugsley did for the story he wrote, "Crisis on Earth X." It's a story I like, so I can't even be sore about how shit shook out.

Here's the thing: a fuckload of money is always nice (kick out the legs of anyone who says otherwise), but at the end of the day (in my case, this was a day where the only thing I'd eaten that resembled food was free and then not-free beer) it's beside the point. Being in writing and publishing is a lot like owning a cat. You put a lot of love and care and time into this thing that could care less about you, and you're happy to do it. But every once and a while that little motherfucker jumps into your lap for snugs and your goddamn heart explodes. Being up for a prize, or having some stranger mention maybe liking or appreciating something you've written or worked on, is a heart exploding cuddle.

It's hard to be resentful in this industry. In his acceptance speech, Mr. Pugsley alluded to luck's role in the award, and this luck certainly has a lot to do with that shit. But before the luck, all there is is work. I feel really fortunate to have sat awkwardly in a suit in a theater full of hard fucking workers. Writers, editors, publishers, volunteers: these people destroy certain important corners of their whole lives to foist their product on a world that on some days couldn't give less of a shit. And they're all happy to do it, and not even everyone needs to mollify rancorous minds with booze.

I know some Buddhist said this first, but I like to attribute this quote to a man named Peter Henderson, who's managed to manage the Bookshelf Cinema for about as many years as I've alive: "Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry fucking water." All there is is work. Any story or book you read is just the placid head of a duck that's kicking like fucking nuts under the water. And the thing about these award things is no matter who wins, everyone goes back to work the next morning. Or, in my case, you ignore the wood and water for a day while all those cans and pints of Mad Tom IPA get tired of punching you in the brain.

1 comment:

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