 A while ago, I wrote my first post on this blog, titled: My Story So Far. The post was about my story as a writer—my successes, my failures, my hopes and my dreams. But there’s another story, one I’ve yet to tell. It’s a story of struggle; a story of despair; a story of hope. It’s a deeply personal story, one that isn’t related only to writing.
I’m sharing that story with you now. I’m sharing it so that anyone who struggles as I once did might find, here, the strength or inspiration to overcome their struggle.
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 It’s holiday season, so I’m gonna keep this one short.
Imagine someone put a gun to your head, sat you down by a computer, and told you that you had to write something compelling, something captivating that would grab the reader’s attention. There are two catches (not counting the gun to the head, of course). Firstly, you only have a sentence or two to write it in. And second—no one’s planning to read what you write. That’s kind of what copywriting for Instagram is like.  Close your eyes, for just a moment, and imagine a police officer being sworn in. Perhaps you picture a young man, back stiff and proud, pressed suit and gleaming badge unable to hide the pride in his eyes. Or maybe you see a woman, tough, defiant, determined to buck trends and fight discrimination. An old man, finally fulfilling his dream; a crippled survivor, determined to fight and keep on fighting. The paths of imagination are endless. But there comes a point, in this story, where every single version you can imagine merges and take the same path. The officer steps forward, raises a hand, and repeats an oath. And, though the exact wording may vary slightly, the content is always the same. Because to be a police officer means to answer a calling—the same calling every police officer answers.
To protect and serve. Which makes me wonder: do we writers have a calling?  The Urge
He leaned forward and fixed me with a stare. “You don’t have a choice.” We were sitting in a small conference room, facing each across a table. Like duelists, we’d been fencing around each for some time now, parrying sly remarks and witty comments as we took our measure of each other. It seemed my opponent had decided he’d had enough of waiting. Very well. Two can play this game.  I don’t know how many of you read fantasy, but if you do—or if you ever took a wrong turn in the library (I mean, clicked the wrong link on a website)—you’ll probably have noticed something.
Fantasy books tend to be really, really long.  The Calling of the Pen and the Pad
Writing this blog post, I kinda feel like one of those characters in a comedy movie—you know, the one who turns up to a party or business event and starts talking about himself, only to see everyone else asking the same question: “Who is this guy?” |
AuthorEli Landes is one of those weird writers who just can't get enough. A marketing writer by day and a fiction writer whenever he can squeeze in the time, he spends his spare time working on his novel, writing short fiction, or daydreaming (I mean, researching). His main genre is Jewish fiction, but he's been known to dabble in the weird, the absurd, and the truly dark. Archives
June 2020
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