Eighteen years after deciding to pursue serious writing - that is, writing not just intended to entertain, but also to express some ideas of higher importance - I find myself in a quandary, the nature of which is somewhat surprising to me. When I set out to write, I wasn't at all sure I was capable of it. It was an act of faith. So, surprisingly to me, it isn't my own failure at that rather audacious ambition that poses me with the quandary I now find myself in.
With the publication of my third book, Inner Demons and other essays, I can fairly say that I haven't failed myself as a writer. Inner Demons, for all its faults, lives up to my expectations. If successful, I think I can write wore on the subjects involved, and more that I think is worthwhile. Where I've failed however - miserably - has been in finding an audience for those ideas.
I frankly don't understand the age we live in now. It's common knowlegde the world's in desperate need of regeneration. Yet in presenting new ideas it seems there's often very little interest taken in them. Yet...
One thing I know. If humanity is to emerge from the next century, it will do so with practically every moral and intellectual value that we currently act upon in the conduct of modern life discredited. The world is not veering toward the precipice because of its own inertia, it's doing so because of us, and the essential failure of our fundamental outlook on life and its meaning.
I think Inner Demons opens a serious debate regarding the validity of that outlook and points toward the possibility of new directions. To have spent such a great part of life in the development of these ideas, and to see them largely ignored, would be enough to make anyone succumb to the strange current state of torpor, or mesmerism that seems to grip the entire world today. Have we run out of ideas, or just the courage to confront our own inner demons?
Copyright 2008 Brent Hightower