Art is exported awe. I've mentioned this before.
Why should anyone be motivated to encode their awe into an artifact? There are many possible motivations, but personally I do it because I am a ghoul.
I feed on the thrills and chills of others.
You see, I get such a kick out of having thrills and chills generated inside me by riding art that I am driven to attempt to reproduce the experience, by constructing artifacts which cause others to experience thrills and chills so that I may vicariously enjoy the feelings all over again. To inspire wonder in someone else is almost as good as living it first hand, if you're halfway good at putting yourself in somebody else's shoes. Like a vampire, I drink.
I explain this to explain why the world's response to The Darth Side has meant so much to me...why it has been like candy to me.
Thousands of people have by now dropped me a line to tell me that they will never be able to watch Lucas' saga without hearing my Vader's voice in their heads, and that in the end they were caused to feel real pity for him. Hearing this is like crack to me. That is exactly what I wanted -- to use comedy to lull people into my Vader's heart, so that they were moved when the time came to be -- standing at that railing overlooking Endor and his shoulders sank as Luke left him. I always knew that's where we were headed. I always knew it had to end there, in the thick moment before death.
My instincts about the moment were right. So many of you have told me so that I have now given up any hope of ever replying personally to each. I have never received so much mail in all my life.
For me there is nothing like it. It makes me feel like the web is one big campfire, and a story has just been told that made everyone gathered around the pyre collectively shiver.
That collective shiver is my cocaine.
The touching, articulate things people have troubled to write to me are overwhelming. Mere farts in the pan from enthusiasts were there only a dozen, but instead I continue to receive dozens of such messages every day. (Also, for the record, I have never had so little negative feedback on something I've done -- ever.) They take a moment to tell me what a nice time they had, being transported away to Vader's world for a spell. They say, "Thanks." They say, "Where can I get more?"
The point is not "look how wonderful my blog was!" because, really, in the big scheme of things it's just a few week's worth of error-ridden romantic tripe. The point is that as a content creator having confirmation that I was able to encode an ounce of transcendence into the work is the greatest reward possible. I admit it: sometimes when people write to tell me how they've cried, it makes me cry, too.
So I just wanted to say "thank you" to anyone who's still paying attention. You've made my month. You've made my year. Your enjoyment of and participation in this telling has been the highlight of my personal Star Wars experience, and I will never forget it. It has also been a milestone in my growth as a creative typist, and has lent me the impetus necessary to hit the ground running on a proper novel.
This wonder-ghoul is addicted. I swear I will move you again. And drink it hot.
Posted by Cheeseburger Brown at 08:56