/lit/ - Literature

>>21984794
>But the one thing that people in this thread are missing is that there’s not just a lack of great artists, there’s no room for them to exist at all. Even if someone makes a truly amazing 21st century novel it won’t be influential or welcomed by any intellectual classes. Cinema and television are now far more significant than literature when it comes to narrative storytelling in modern life. So why try to write something great at all when everyone will just wait for the film adaptation? Why write a novel exploring our age when it’ll just be condemned as reactionary or bigoted and shunned by everyone?
Wish I could refute this.
I've been writing in english for quite a few years now; at first to translate some early rubbish I'd written in my first language and to improve myself, then as I convinced myself that I'd die miserable before my writings received any acknowledgement in my homeland. Nowadays, I'm plagued by the thought that this possibility is no longer restricted to my poor third world shithole, and that I would remain obscure in a world laser-focused on social media content and watered down movies and tv shows, or that everything implodes before I even get the chance to publish, and the more I read about the state of the world and try and envision what may come to be, the more they grow.
Worse still, whenever I dared talk about my writings to some people, some which I trusted (some which I still do, in spite of the disappointment) as honest friends, and some whose trust I meant to test a little. To this day, I think only three have shown legitimate interest, and only one has read everything I sent their way (one of which is quite understandable due to health conditions). At least they've loved what they found.
It really appears that this post-modern world has no space for literature, and lord knows whether this is a cycle or worse... Yet here I am, writing anyway. 153 pages, notwithstanding random scribbles and ideas I'm yet to write about. I can't claim I've been efficient, seeing that I've been working on this for four years and nearly a half, but then I have written and rewritten, developed some things and trashed others, from simple passages to entire chapters. These characters and their world have been populating my mind ever since, and I think there's more to my stubbornness than mere pity of otherwise silencing them.
There are some things I wish to communicate.
It might be a slow effort, and perhaps mankind will implode before I even get to print one copy, seeing that, so far, I'm so clueless on how to proceed that I haven't even contacted any publisher...
I'll stop here because I feel I'm just about to drive in circles, and I think I've said what I wanted to say about this: I've been despairing, deep inside, but somehow I haven't become hopeless. Somehow, I'm persevering.
Sorry for the huge blog, I just felt I had to.