/lit/ - Literature

Do you know who Robert Johnson is? Don’t worry about it if you don’t, his life and music aren’t relevant here. But a certain legend about him is. According to this legend, Robert Johnson sat down at a crossroads at midnight to play his guitar, and a devil came to him. A bargain was struck, a man offering his soul in return for music the likes of which none had ever heard before. It worked out alright for him, as far as artistry is concerned. You don’t always measure success by wealth. It’s that part about the crossroads and the devil at midnight that I wanted to talk about. But first, let me tell you my story.

As a child my father would read me things like Baron Munchausen’s or MAD Magazine in place of what would be considered normal bedtime stories. To my mother’s annoyance I commandeered her ability to put words on paper – this was until I learned to write myself – and dictated to her the stories I wanted her to tell me. I would make comic books with more concern for quantity than quality. I would in elementary school participate in as many plays as I could, and with my friends I’d put together shows during recess. A friend’s family obtained a digital camera, and soon we were making movies as well. Throughout junior-high I would write short stories and poems and did fairly well in art class, too. My mother was always proud of me inheriting her painting ability, though nothing ever came of it. In high school I wrote a play, and through my teacher I got it performed at a small community theatre.

I never got a higher education, and I was held back twice, in the fourth grade and in my third year of high school. I could’ve done better if I did my homework and paid attention and didn’t ditch classes, same as everyone else. But I had other things to think about. I had biographies to read and movies to watch. After graduation I found myself working odd jobs while writing short stories, trying to make my second play and trying to get in film or theatre school. I even appeared in a local made-for-TV movie as an extra, pro bono. After two years of this my father told me to get my shit together and grow up. I told him to give me my share of my inheritance, like the prodigal son. I asked my grandparents on both sides of the family for the same. Altogether I was able to put together some $12,000 this way. I asked my friends to commit. Some did, some didn’t. Of those who did, some committed more than others. We had a budget of $36,000, an amateur crew with no experience, no solid ideas and a half-assed attitude. Two people quit within the first two weeks of filming, so all footage with them had to be dropped.