My friend once said, “You are not the type that who would commit suicide.”
That was really quite a statement because she knows me and I also know myself. I definitely do not want to see myself hanging or slashing my wrist to simply kill myself. It is a sight, I cannot imagine myself dying—it’s gruesome and it’s bloody.
But didn’t you know that as a writer, everyday I am committing suicide?
I simply put it that way. Why? Most people view writing as a career like that of an artist—a lonely and not financially rewarding life. To make it short—writers are considered ‘starving artists’, too.
Am I committing a suicide? Am I like Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), to whom his death earned a statement from a contemporary of his that said, “This death was almost a suicide, a suicide prepared for a long time.”
I definitely disagree.
I do not want to die like Poe. He was already a celebrated when he died at 40. He was suspected to die due to his addiction to alcohol. I still have too many things to prove to myself as a writer.
Another literary figure described as someone committing suicide gradually was Kurt Vonnegut Jr., an American novelist (1922-2007). He was a chain smoker and referred his vice as a ‘classy way to commit suicide’.
Rather than saying as a writer—I am committing suicide, I would say, I am living on the edge to experience the adventures of my writing life.
Yet, in the years that I wrote, money may be rewarding, but the reality of being published is a different feeling altogether. It is something money cannot compensate.
As a writer, I also want to pay-it-forward to aspiring and beginning writers see the ‘light’ of being the modern-day scribe. Writing is a profession that many have neglected, but I want to contribute in my own little way that through writing—lives are empowered and realized that writing has the power to make ‘creativity’ profitable in many ways.