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Underworld

© James C. Hess

Off the reservation.

I have written about it before, but it bears repeating, if for no other reason than to allow denizens, interlopers, and newcomers to these writings the opportunity, perhaps the ideal opportunity, the appropriate opportunity, to gain a sufficient and proper perspective of why it is I am the way I am:

For a time, many years ago, I gave consideration to pursuing a career in journalism. Print, television, radio, new media--it didn't matter. Journalism was the thing.

Then, about fifteen minutes after I made this pondering, sanity and logic, reason and reality reared their respective heads from the swamp otherwise known as Popular Culture, and a sound piece of advice was heaved in my general direction.

Advice, interestingly enough, that proved prophetic beyond the wisdom of ages; A career in journalism is the most obscene and perverted form of self-gratification and self-abuse known to the literate world. A career in journalism is a certain way to rot and ruin any writing talent, ability, or skill one might otherwise demonstrate. If one intends to write, I was told, do it. Period. Do yourself a courtesy and consideration and circumvent the bastard form of writing called journalism.

Well.

For reasons I cannot yet give or produce in a quantifiable form I took this advice to heart and went another direction with my writing. A route that, for a time, was a rather lonely journey.

Then one day, not so many years ago, I met a man. A writer. Like myself he had initially considered a career in journalism, but had quickly dimissed the notion, and had spent years working in the trenches of writing, publishing a book a year for more than a dozen years.

When he met me and learned my situation he seemed genuinely surprised that someone of my youthful years would actually act in a mature manner and forgo fame and fortune to pursue a true calling with the belief doing so could eventually produce success and happiness.

For many years, now, I have lived this particular life. For many years, now, I have found success and happiness following this particular path. But recently I left it. I went off the reservation.

There is, of course, reason for why I did what I did. It is akin to why the biblical Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden: Because of obligation. They were obliged to see what might be beyond. I am obliged to step out from my comfortable existence and see what there is to see.

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