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Word to the wise Grueheads, Keeper has flown the coop. That’s right I have spent the previous few months finding my wings and, after painstaking reflection and constant analysis, I have finally worked out how to spread the damn things. I rather like the way that they flap and plan to soar from now on. Now your main consideration may be that I am about to give my requiem but that couldn’t be farther than the truth. I’m going nowhere, at least not in a physical sense. Right now, I am feeling jubilant and my work is beginning to take on a whole new level of focus so I’m gloriously contented with the vision for the future currently presented me. I’m just no longer caged.
I have been glancing back over old appraisals and the like and have been flabbergasted at how much my scribing style has transmogrified, particularly in the past month or so. During a recent communication I spoke about how much I used to include brackets in my prose. It was suggested to me that I was previously caged and I wholeheartedly agree with that prognosis. Sure, I was being as candid as Keeper ever is but deep down I was suffering and that was coming through in my work, whether intentional or not. So what has changed? Well I have always endorsed the belief that worrying about things that I cannot change is not a desirable notion to me and I uphold that with great vehemence. Right now I am game-faced about what I can have a bearing on and that is the future of horror. Plain and very simple.
Hopefully y’all know me better by now than to take that as a flippant statement. I believe in myself is all and have spent far too much of my life thinking of reasons why I could never make a difference so it’s a refreshing attitude to adopt. I am currently working on a sequence which may well have the legs to become a novel should I choose to take that path. Yet it is merely preparation for another idea swimming around my cranial lagoon which I will be looking to develop in the very near future. It’s how I choose to learn, I’ve always suffered from a lousy attention span and years of pointless meandering training sessions taught me precious little whereas I’ve schooled myself on how to take this gift and make it shine and believe that said decision is beginning to bear its fruits.
To anyone who reads my work; whether fiction, appraisals or introspective, it is my gift to you. I love knowing that my words resonate and it gives me such an immense thrill to share that. However, to those involved intricately in Rivers of Grue, it is just as meaningful. I am a willing guinea pig, prepared to be prodded and poked and only hoping that my prose will afford y’all to see the tool set you already own. There are some great fucking writers in Rivers of Grue and it thrills me to see others learning with me and shedding their insecurities thus realizing their own unbounded potential. I let my work do the talking and refrain from getting involved in the negativity which invariably surfaces from time to time.
This can be construed in different ways but hopefully, should these souls read the neon signage littered throughout my numerous pieces, then they will be aware that I haven’t ever been interested in leading that sort of charge. It’s metaphorical, the quill is my vessel of truth and dignity and I don’t wish to wage war with anybody and I do mean anybody. Sure I give Justin Bieber rather a lot of stick but come on now, can a dog walk past a lamppost without scratching that itch once in a while? No its leg is cocked even if it only has the intention of farting. I stay out of anything that makes my dick itch and recently it’s been chafing like a bitch.
Ultimately everybody has the freedom of their own choices. We choose what clothes we put on each morning, what people we interact with, whether we wipe our asses front-to-back or sit down while we urinate. We can all make those decisions for ourselves and nobody can take that away from us. When I see public slanging matches on public feeds it is my choice to exit and let it go off without me. I’m simply disinterested in making judgements on anybody regardless of what public consensus may be. I’m like that little friendly squirrel who resides by the oak at the bottom of your garden. I scurry about mirthfully, gathering my nuts and showing off my bushy tail until which point some bastard turns the sprinklers on and sends me back peddling up the tree.
Shit may fly from the left and I’m sure it could be projected from the right also but I will never be the one wearing the pitching glove. Life is too motherfucking short. We all have flaws, whether megalomaniacs, skeptics or conspiracy theorists, we all consist of flesh, bone and the capability for learning. I make mistakes, hell’s bells I’ve made a hundred or so since the weekend but that’s just the nature of the beast. What is also in my nature is to learn from each setback or pratfall and let it inform my future decisions in a positive manner. So, whilst this tittle-tattle plays out, I will form no hypothesis. I cannot stop it and neither do I wish to or, at least, not by taking sides. I would rather let my prose do the talking for me.
When I speak introspectively like I am now it is rarely reactionary. By that I mean that, should I have a beef with any one person at any point, then I choose not to vent that on print. That is the key to becoming a truly centered scribe, channeling energy for the right means. Nobody wants to hear me bitch and it isn’t an attractive trait to display. I’m about the love, really I couldn’t be any plainer than that, love trumps all. Sentimental old duck aren’t I? More weary mallard, I’ve long had my fill of adversity as who can really claim to have all the answers anyhoots? I certainly don’t.
Through my entire time as Keeper I have always remained constant. Sure, part of that deal is that I’ve been consistently disorganized as a leader and I get that people have lost patience with me. However, it is not my intention to be neglectful. I just hope that anybody who reads what I write will know enough about me to make their own informed decision of my character. I’m on a journey right now and if it appears personal then that is because it is. That doesn’t mean I’m not a team player, far from it. Until which time as Rivers of Grue is turning profit I only desire that we all keep working through our shit in whatever way helps us deal and do so in the knowledge that we have family there. Whether I’m around or AWOL as tends to be the case while I fight any remaining demons in my own life, I’m always polite and kind to folk just like my parents taught me to be. I am constant if you look closely enough.
I’m a freebird at heart and every last one of y’all is too. If you wish to fly with me then I would be ever so pleased as the heady sights before us will be dazzling believe you me. Speaking of which, I accidentally stumbled across something today from our very own Jester Annie. It resonated strongly and thus I wish to close with it. It is one of those transcendent works which offers a unique personal message to each soul it touches. To Keeper it encapsulates everything I believe in and reflects exactly why I started this pilgrimage in the first place. My beloved Grueheads, one and all, I leave you with Salvation.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sin-cerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
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