Uncharted Territory: Or, A Mission Statement
by Jacob Malewitza
F Scott Fitzgerald In Manhattan, 100
Civilization Empires, 2 2 2
Columbia, 2 shirt
Uncharted territory is like a lion being let out of a zoo: he may be unsure of where to go, but he sure knows he is hungry and these two legged things look tasty. We writers are thrown to the lions sometimes. Listen, draftsman, because this map shows you uncharted territory, one more important than finding water in a barren desert.
It can be almost a comedy to see people ask, “Can I be a writer?” online. I hate being rude to those, because I may have asked the same questions. Yet, I see the lions forming up around them. “Writing is hard. You can’t spell. Think twice.” I once didn’t know my TOs from my TOOs. I still have trouble with commas. I try to sway them from the lions, without stepping on too many toes. I try, in so many words, to tell them that writing is like going on a voyage. Then, I get down to business and say exactly what they want to hear: “You can be a writer; you can start with Julia Cameron; and I can offer you no ending.” Somewhere along the voyage, they will find themselves free from the bars, free to roam the world as they please. The perfect writer is able to blend something new with something old. I see this in my dreams of writing a comic book. I see all these busy bees turning in dozens of scripts a year, all published, and then they tell the world of comic fans to forget about it. No, I won’t forget. Because, as in the story below, I see a reason to continue.
The graphic novel “Planetary: Crossing Worlds” written by the talented Warren Ellis provides a mission statement for storytelling. Everything by Ellis goes into uncharted territory. The best single story was “Planetary/Batman: Night On Earth.” Ellis wrote the basic Batman origin of losing his parents in a crime and resolving to stop evil, and added to it another quiet tragedy. Batman had to stop an insane young adult who had lost everything as he had. This boy murdered many as an act of revenge upon the world. Batman told the boy how he too had tragedies in early childhood, while putting an end to his crimes. It was a perfect story. Here is my point.
Sometimes writers go into charted territory. They find the resolve to try. I think the writer has to try as much in the world as any other worker. The best of us will play with the charted territory and explore something new. Instead of being another clichéd crossover story, “Night on Earth” played upon a unique view of Batman. The story went into new territory by retelling the familiar story of Batman’s origins. A boy killer was mad. Justice said he had to be stopped; Batman offered his story to the troubled boy, a perfect blend of what it means to be a hero.
The writer can be defined as someone who knows when to go into charted or uncharted territory. Here, the writer is scribbling something down to find themselves. The writer who smiles loves and fears the uncharted territory, because it guides them through both hell and heaven. If Warren Ellis could find humanity in writing about Batman, I believe each of us can in our own way.
Many writers live through tragedies—perhaps without knowing—and forget who they are. In the process of finding the inner writer, we must find our inner dreams. I can see the comic writing dream of mine as a pipe dream. I once told this to a local publisher, and he said “We all have pipe dreams. They make the world go round.” I am fearful of becoming a failed tragedy. Batman was a tragedy which millions of readers have leafed through again and again. The tragedy of writers even sells many books. On there way to fame and publication, authors like Virginia Woolf and Ernest Hemingway found insanity and death. The initial scribbles and joys were lost to something evil. Even the great writers find an ending to their own tales can be tragic. I say there was no ending to writing. When I go to the bookstores, I see Wolf’s and Hemingway’s classics. They exist.
There are ways around the danger. Doesn’t every job have some danger? It can be of the mind or it can be physical; writing is no different in what it makes the draftsman think. The first job is like the first scribbles in a notebook. To me, a higher force sustains the dream, because he works with me to achieve it, to help with the doubts, to tell the stories I want to tell, and to tell them to someone else. When Christians and Jews were thrown to the lions in ancient Rome, all they had was their God. When a writer begins, he has infinite more tools to keep the lions at bay.
The initial scribbles become a reason to dream; we must remember them. These are the maps into the uncharted territory. A childhood dream can sound meaningless today. We wanted so much, didn’t know how to get it, and failed to find it. I have found no secrets to this. My initial scribbles were terrible and I, like many, didn’t think that would change. Until I found the cause to continue living I was as lost as the lions behind the bars of the zoo. I knew what I wanted, but the difficulties presented themselves at the same time as the doubts.
Our voice is prime while traveling the uncharted territory. We have to hone but not control it. I see no point in writing unless we can go into something new. Life isn’t like a Batman graphic novel, but writing is exactly that. We can have the rage of a hyena or the courage of a lion. I say, I can either write or not write. These people tell you the odds, but the odds heighten with each piece you write. Chance succeeds for the working mind.
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