So I’m working on a much bigger writing project, which I nicknamed D.E.A.T.H. Haha. Anyways. The acronym doesn’t stand for anything. I refuse to reveal the title. That shit eats.
My brain is all over the place. I keep drafting stuff for D.E.A.T.H. Literally whenever I sit down to blog I come up with content that can’t hit the site. It’s too good and I don’t want someone to swipe it. I don’t think someone would jack my shit but there is a fear. In my imagination the thief is a writer working for New York mag. She’s pumped out so many articles for the machine that she lost her soul along the way and doesn’t have any creative juices left. One day she stumbles on my blog and goes “oh wow, here’s something I can work with” and bam, next thing you know my shit is staring back at me from nymag.com. Not fucking happening.
You know who fucking sucks? Reese Witherspoon. Fuck that bitch. She did something “smart” (aka swipey). She has a book club and she approached a bunch of authors and said “hey, I’ll feature your book in my club in exchange for the movie rights.” Authors consent and she uses her club to distribute the books and test them on the market. Whichever book performs the best gets turned into a movie because it has proven its viability. Bam, Reese is wealthier, everyone’s wealthier. I’m not sure how it’s looking for the authors though. They don’t have the rights to their work. I’m assuming they had little say in how the content was produced, and I’m not sure what the royalties look like. A book is, by proxy, a screenplay.
At the end of the day it’s not about the money though. Taylor Swift is loaded and completely heartbroken about her masters. Rina Sawayama went after Matt Healy for owning her masters. Owning your work is more valuable than having money. Prince was known for advising people to own their work. I know it sounds crazy to be obsessing about this now, like most people would prioritize the coin, but I’m not. I have a full time job. I’m making just enough to continue investing in penniless ideas. Owning your work is the smartest thing you can do anyways. Think about the hours you invested into creating it. Time is money.
My friend sent me a Bad Bunny video the other day. I watched it and thought “this shit sucks.” It was a sterile critique of sterility. Blandness fights blandness. I told her I liked it (I was being nice), but in my head I was like yo, if this is what passes for visual content then I could do better. I’m ruled by the God of War, I have my fire. I’m obsessed with film. I know my Ozu, Kurosawa, Tarkovsky, Coppola, Akerman. I could shift from writing into vicious filmmaking. Fuck you.
a soft death 