goodlit

You tell yourself that this is it – the chance you’ve been
waiting for. That this is your first stepping stone. That a hashtag
in the anthology title means nothing wrong and the Kanye West
theme means less than that.
You struggle for days to tackle your submission, staring at
blank Word docs while Yeezy spits mad flow in the background,
searching for some #inspiration. As fluidly and easily as his
words spill forth, a dam blocks your creative reservoir. You
come to hate his self-confident bravado. His swagger.
“What sort of guy wears those shades?” His Ray-Bans glimmer
in a video, catching the studio lights.
“Good Life” becomes an anthem of envy for you. How he
funds his life of celebrity luxury by bragging about it. His music
awakens a Want in you that you’d not previously known. When
he rattles off cities you’ve never seen, a wanderlust rages inside
of you.
Slowly, through hours of “research”—listening, watching,
reading, and digging through bins of CDs at used DVD stores, but
never writing—you feel that hateful envy grow into admiration.
Sure, the hurt of jealousy remains, but the realization of Yeezy’s
artistry summons a kindred spirit within.
Where you once saw cookie-cutter swagger, you now see
wordplay and a rhythm your own words lack. The beat to his
thoughts and rants drive forward with an unrelenting pace your
countless scribbled-in journals lack.
When you talk on the phone to your dad about your week and
continued unemployment, you try to brighten the conversation.
“I think something of mine is going to be published.”
“Really? What?”
“A piece for an anthology about Kanye West.”
#GOODLitSwerveAutumn