I feel like everything that I want to write has already been written by someone else in history.
Of course, present-day readers couldn’t have read said works centuries ago, when they were written.
But how will I know whether or not I will be “discovered” while I’m alive, or centuries after my death, or even, in fact, at all? (I can’t).
And what about how said authors’ works were received during their day (while they were alive?) That’s important to me. How my work is perceived while I’m alive is important to me because of financial reasons, (AND because of some GENERAL spiritual connection with humanity, whereby I wish to do something good, important, and valuable, defined (hopefully) by objective terms, but, ultimately, being manifested in the consciousnesses of others; but not, however, being so specific as to, in practice, having each individual that I have positively affected (as determined by them) specify to me, in its entirety, how exactly I have affected him or her)) but also because I want to feel like I’ve left my mark on the world, for generations after I have left it; (and of course, the latter will last longer than the former, even if for an amount of time that is nearly impossible to quantify). Of course, how their works were perceived does not affect how my works are received, except through that historical and futuristic process of social organization whereby individuals discuss present works, and pass these pieces of information on from generation to generation, until finally, a “history” is developed, whereby we can say that “such-and-such is similar to someone else”, or was “influenced by someone else”, etc.
And what of the fact that much of what I want to say has already been written?
It makes me wonder what the point of writing is if ideas keep being rehashed.
How can I be expected to become successful if I’m just rewriting old ideas?
I suppose that I will have to rely on the ignorance of previous works by readers, although that juxtaposition is bittersweet:
If my success depends upon the ignorance of other historical authors by readers, I have no reason to believe that my work will fare any better, as there are countless historical authors who are better writers than I, and it makes me wonder if it’s really worth the potential money that I could receive…
Of course, this isn’t to say that there isn’t a psychic pleasure derived from writing regardless of the amount of financial compensation received for it. Although I have stated that my number one priority with my work is to enjoy it for myself, there are still those (and will always be those) that believe that I’m just “writing for the money“, and all of the horrible religious/moral/spiritual ideas (mostly horrible ones, at that) regarding money rear their ugly heads, and remind me of a time of ignorance, and the worst possible fear that you could feel, in my youth.
However, although my mind contemplates the nature of the diversity among all human beings, and the nature of what makes each individual what they are, and hopes to conclude, however juvenile, some sort of conclusion that make sense (and, which ultimately, brings me happiness), I can’t help but, for the time being, conclude that, regardless of what is expressed to me by others regarding my work, I must write what makes me happy and what I enjoy, and if it means that I become the most socially-reclusive human being that will ever walk the face of this Earth, then so be it…
These are the types of gargantuan questions that constantly occupy my mind, and are the reasons that such common trivialities of social discourse are the source of such anger within me, especially when my nature is attempted at being suppressed by such ignorance (justified or not) within other individuals…