An Open Letter to Writers
-For the Uncensored!
In a day and age where men and women often never feel alone, it’s probably a good time to remember the past and think about the world before the Internet and give writers perspective and breathe a sigh of relief. One thing a writer must do is not only carry the past but carry the dead. The dead writers who fell to the way of suicide. To carry them as they fell into despair, as they felt alone. There are many, but only two, William Lindsey Gresham and Robert E. Howard, are two writers in particular that I carry and hold in high esteem.
For context, William Lindsey Gresham (1909-1962), in his own right, was a writer of only one noticeable work, Nightmare Alley, as it was made into a Tyrone Power film in 1943, and Guillermo Del Toro and Bradley Cooper 2021 film, detail the life of Stanton Carlyle, a vagrant who joins a circus only to take a bride and perform fake magic tricks for people. Only to leave but then get involved with a psychologist who uses him to try and con money out of a rich man, only to force him into exile, jumping on a train, and ending up back in the circus, only to be a gimp who acts like a wild beast.
While this might have spoiled a fifty year old plot, the man, Greshim, had a troubled life. His marriage was a wreck, constant alcoholic, and finally, committed suicide, by checking in as Stanton Carlyle, and overdosed on alcohol poisoning. Destitute, his career, love life, in shambles, many writers do commit suicide.
The second writer, Robert E. Howard (1906-1936), was a man of mythic proportions. A large hulking Texan, from Cross Plains, had his career in pulp fantasy including The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane, Bran Mak Mar, and finally, Conan the Barbarian, was not a person who could be identified by one singular work or another. Having pushed his writing to the utmost extent, having a comfortable existence, met his final day when his writing career was in disarray, but also when his mother died, too, it created a world wind affect. Also, a girlfriend at the time left him, too.
(The trailer for the Whole Wide World)
It’s important to note the world as it was then, as it was today. No writer, no matter if they are cancelled or even bored, or even achieved the world famous status they have earned, the world they created, might be in shambles. But don’t give up. This isn’t just a biography of famous writers who have committed suicide. It’s about telling those writers, who I carry, that they don’t have to worry anymore. I do worry about the future of writers place in the world and what they have to bring to the table. With all the podcasters and youtubers, it does feel odd as to why anyone would want to be a writer. Writing is tough. No one wants to do this. But writers must keep writing.
And suicide is not the way. Unless you’re on your death bed and you’re going to become a zombie. Speak out about things that make you feel upset. Put people in their place. Put them in the world you have to carry. Don’t leave this world, regardless. I don’t want you to be another lost writer to the wind whom I carry with me to my grave. All of the dead who are dead, and the memory of their writing is what carries me, but I implore all of you, writers, to keep writing. Keep speaking out. You don’t have to suffer in silence anymore. Don’t die. Don’t kill yourselves.
Sincerely,
Ltb, Esq.