You think you have a tough job? Try mine. It’s the worst fucking gig in all of existence.
I’m Kent Wayne’s muse: Kyoose.
I am constantly, CONSTANTLY assailed by bunk-ass ideas that try to filter in through Kent’s I-wanna-be-the-next-Hemingway ego. Not a day goes by when I don’t forcibly restrain him from writing teen vampire poetry or some stupid-ass “masterpiece” that involves the use of ten-syllable words to fashion some existential paradigm around the act of taking a shit, so that virgin-for-life lit majors will spend way too much money on an obscure textbook containing this fecally driven anecdote and puzzle over why it’s a brilliant criticism of the captalist/communist zeitgeist.
Do I let him insert socioeconomic commentary into his narrative, along with a decent helping of Carl Jung, mystical philosophy, and Joseph Campbell-style syncretism? Yeah. Sure. Fine. But it’s gotta be buttressed with giganto robots and cool-ass psionics, or else he’ll bore his readers to tears. Dude, if people wanted to swallow that stuff raw, they’d go get themselves a fucking textbook. That ain’t what I’m about. I’m trying to make people shake their heads in amazement, or leap up from the chair, make some pew pew noises ’cos they’re fired the fuck up, and get to writing their OWN shiz.
Entertain the inner child first, and the adult will follow.
So I’m sitting down at my astral console, sipping a cup of fresh-brewed epiphanies, flipping through the annals of Kent’s mind. Okay, his work-life balance is good, he’s getting some ass every now and then, he’s keeping a healthy relationship with his family and friends…sweet! Means I don’t need to waste any creativity on his bullshit drama. I crack my knuckles and place my ethereal fingers on his psyche—
—only to be shoved violently off to one side. As I tumble through the aether, I catch a glimpse of my attacker: It’s my archnemesis—Artsy Literature Guy.
“This psyche is MINE, Kyoose!” Artsy Literature Guy snarls. He clutches the air and tilts his face up to the heavens like a nutless supervillain from the 1940s. “Through it I shall unleash sonnets and essays, critques and metaphors, elegies and theses! Your putrid attempts at describing robotic combat will go down in history as the literary equivalent of an enormous Lincoln Log-style shit!”
“The fuck you say,” I growl, and spear-tackle Artsy Literature Guy.
As we tumble ’round and ’round through the imaginal planes, we assault each other with wave after wave of liquefied emotion, chained together with razor-sharp tangles of setential weaponry. As good as I am at this, I’m not as good as Artsy Literature Guy; I’ve spent my entire existence focused on trying to make readers stand up and cheer, not immersed in the depths of soulless, high-falutin theory. He begins to get the upper hand, and my astral guts lurch, and my astral nuts quiver.
So I reach deep into my bag o’ astral tricks, and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
A leather-bound codex appears in my hand. I brandish it up before Artsy Literature Guy.
“No!” he screams. “The bane of my people!”
Writ clearly on the cover are nine words. They’re all capitalized, and they’re all in bold:
COMMON SENSE FOR WRITERS. THE OBVIOUS AS FUCK VERSION.
Artsy Literature Guy detonates in a giant mess of guts and splooge. After cleaning myself off, I get back on Kent Wayne’s psyche and spark up an idea on my astral keyboard. The first word goes:
P E N I—
You can guess the rest. 😉
Are you a hardworking muse, trying to churn out some beast-ass stories but you keep getting interrupted by high-handed “artsy” types? Never fear! Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition Also, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com! Go check out his computer-based wizardry 🙂 🙂 😀
Hold on! I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate! If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish. Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens! In this manner you can support my books, musings, podcast, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to! Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy! Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts! 😲💪 😜