Paul Sizer has sparked an ongoing debate over at the Whitechapel forums, dealing with the thoughts on the justification of artists who believe they are “owed” by society for their work. Some of them, he states in the initial salvo, are simply full of themselves, and feel that their genius is unrecognized on a grand level.
Others, he says, are not. They are ignored, because they do their brilliant work, but do not give themselves their due.
Countless people have chipped in. I’ve offered my thoughts, as well as a proposal for a gonzo cross-country journey to cull the herd of so-called “writers” that sit in coffee shops and usher forth monothematic bile into the world, by judging their works and deeming them fit or unworthy to chase their version of the American Dream.
I’m a firm believer in support and reality. If I can offer constructive criticism, I will. If I can’t, I will simply offer support if I know it’s deserved.
Now, thinking on the subject of the thousands upon thousands of other writers out there; how many of them “deserve” to write? How many of them are as good as they say they are, and how many more are still better?
For every person like me – for every writer with talent looking to explore the depths of the future – how many are writing romance novels and cliched screenplays, and should we discount them because of their pursuits?
How many of them write because they got A’s in English, and are under the impression that they’re good writers, rather than good regurgitators?
P.S. I did not know the girl, although I was within driving distance of that school when I grew up. I find it incredibly ironic that, after having a heavy tryst with blatant plagiarism and copyright infringment, she’s attending law school; but not entirely. I knew a girl in the running for Valedictorian at my high school who cheated, schemed, and even passed other people’s work as her own for the school paper. She now travels the world in a well-paying job with an Ivy League education.