Whitehead

[You can read today's post on The Higher Path here]
[You can read Monday's post on Authentic Adventures Inc. here]


If I write something that discourages you so much that you stop DMing, then good.  You should stop.

I learned as a young man that English teachers intended to do whatever they could to dissuade me from being a writer.  This culminated particularly in a character named Mr. Whitehead, my 11th grade drama teacher, who decided to run me through a little sadistic gauntlet of his own devising.  One day after some rehearsal, he asked if I really was serious about being a writer.  I had put together some scenes for our drama class that we had acted out, and one of those had gone to a city-wide event where it was performed in a large auditorium.  It got a good reception.  I've lost it, but it was about a woman named Darlene who goes to hell, where she meets the Devil; she's terrified, but she's forced to endure the Devil reading off a long list of all the bad things she's done.  When she tries to apologize, the Devil cuts her off, telling her that redemption is the other guy's bit.  Then the Devil offers Darlene a job, telling her that he likes her style and he thinks she's got a real future in front of her.  The scene, all told, lasted about seven minutes.

Whitehead asked me to give him some of my stuff, whatever I thought was my best.  I dutifully dumped at least a hundred pages of short stories and poetry that I'd written, this being my habit at the time ... and he took a week to get back to me.  He brought me into his office, a little room behind the stage, and he proceeded for about 15 minutes why I was fooling myself and that I didn't have a chance of ever being a writer.

Didn't work.  I mean, obviously, but I'm saying that it didn't work at the time.  I was furious.  I told him, a teacher, that he was "full of shit" (not sure if those were the exact words but there was swearing) and that he could read the book I was going to publish and choke on it.  I was 16 and I probably sounded hysterical, but I was incensed and I know I didn't cry.  At some point I got done telling him to fuck off in various ways and started to stage my exit, when he stopped me.

He explained that he hadn't meant it.  That he wanted to test me, and see if I really was serious about writing as a craft.  I was flabbergasted.  That scene in a Disney movie, where I grin and appreciate his little play and we become fast friends for life while he helps me become successful ... that didn't happen.

I hated Mr. Whitehead for a long time.

Meh.  He's probably dead now.  Today I think he had the right idea, but he really went about it the wrong way.  He had every right to read me the riot act, if he wanted to spare me a lifetime of banging my head against the wall in a hard business.  But he should have told me what made the business so hard.  He should have explained, in detail, what I would really have to do if I wanted to keep up with this thing.  He shouldn't have pulled any punches doing that.

Instead, he ensured that I'd never ask him for help.  That's not right for a teacher.

So, if I paint DMing as something that's really hard, that needs you to step up and really take a swing at it, and that makes you lose heart, well ... it probably wasn't right for you.  But this is me saying what you need to do to make this challenge.  I won't tell you directly, quit.  And I will help you, if you ask.  I'll give you all the tools that we can find.  I won't pat you on the head and say its going to be all right, no matter what you do, because it won't.  It is damned hard to DM well.  You should know that, up front.

But anyone who wants to, can learn how to do it.