Showing posts with label Todd Crawford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Todd Crawford. Show all posts

Monday, November 5, 2012

A Day in the Life of Todd Crawford: Part 2




Hello and welcome to "A Day in the Life of..."©, a featured guest post exclusive to my blog that's published on Mondays and sometimes, on Thursdays. On these two days, a spotlight guest will share a normal day in their lives, giving us insight on their thoughts, projects, interests, obsessions and more. Occasionally, and if we're lucky, they'll even throw in a giveaway.

And now on with the show...
                                          
                                             About Todd Crawford 

Todd Crawford (1994) was born in Mercer County, Pennsylvania, where he wrote his first three books, a Clockwork in the Stars, The Final Gospels, and his anthology The Black Season. His writing style is recognized as descriptive, cynically honest yet whimsical. His works obsess over the geography of the human mind, existentialism juxtaposed with the politically religious, and nature hearkening back to the Romantic era of literature. He first published a Clockwork in the Stars through Lulu publishing, but released his latter works under the CreateSpace banner before reissuing Clockwork with his new label. Although his only currently released works have been of the literary outlet, he has indulged in other orientations of Art such as music (having composed a companion piece for his novel, The Final Gospels), film (having adapted his novella, Brighter, into a short film), and comic books. Crawford is currently working on his third (traditionally structured) novel, The Pilgrimage, an abstract commentary of politics as he is browsing agents to market the release.

Connect with Todd Crawford

Facebook    Amazon      Goodreads



“A Day In The Life Of…” Todd Crawford, pt. 2

I wake up every morning to the sound of my alarm clock, the most sobering noise this world has to offer. I force myself out of bed, already well aware that I’m to be cutting it close to being late to my first class as I get in the shower. It’s amazing how many insults can slip out of one’s mind at any given nuisance when this tired. The shower at my apartments has no bath tub, but rather a small cell with a shower curtain, which means my towel, spread across the floor, will inevitably be soaked by the time I step out. Not only that, but the thin shelves are hardly wide enough to put a thin bottle of shampoo or a bar of soap on, let alone my roommate’s large bottle of hair jazz that he somehow manages to balance just long enough for me to get in the shower, before tumbling down onto my toe, at which point my arm-flailing reaction knocks my own bottle of shampoo on the other side of me (Oh, right, this shampoo cell has just about the spaciousness of a coffin, you might need to know.) onto the same toe on my other foot! I spent the first two weeks living here paranoid that I had broken one or both of them, especially when they began to stick out funny.
Anyways, I’m sure that you didn’t come here to read all about my toes. My day varies greatly depending on which day of the week it is, as Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays I have my English 198 and Psychology classes; on Tuesdays and Thursdays I attend History and Music. Now, one would think as an English major and author I would be in favour of the former set of days, but I also don’t think one would be inclined to think I would be failing my English class. I won’t necessarily go in-depth about it, but I never would have thought college professors would try to suffocate creativity and individuality in such a way as this woman does. She really is every reason that I didn’t want to go to college in the first place. She will tell students that they write “too scholarly” for her or that they are “too smart,” and then dock points for being too sophisticated for her low class. It’s sickening at how well America tends to the lowest common denominator, especially in the classroom of all places, where knowledge and personal development should be encouraged, not depressed. My History course makes up for it in spades, though, as we usually take at least four pages of notes a class period and all of it is both fascinating and inspiring. As I am currently writing a novel based on how little Art has advanced since the Greek and Roman ages, it’s stunning to find out how little society has advanced as well. (Democracy and Republics originated from these time periods, as well as just about any religious or artistic theme which one can find!) My Music class is also interesting; I can now read music…well, sorta, and we even learned about Symphonie Fantastique, the musical piece from which my upcoming novel originated.
After class I head back to my apartment and may stay there until the following morning, with occasional breaks to go on walks. I get hopelessly lonely and have noticed that I eat a lot more than I need to out of both lethargy and a need of something to do, which is never something I noticed about myself before. I’m really struggling to live up to that healthier lifestyle I had planned for myself a few months ago. This past month (of October) I have been uploading videos to YouTube about my artistic endeavors and giving more personal statements about them than I am able to through written word, which has surprisingly gone over much better than I had ever anticipated it to. I’m still very camera-shy (technophobe here), but I see it as a challenge to overcome, and something that will better prepare me to be the public figure which I see myself as inevitable to become. I’ve also been working on a lot of promotional essays and articles (such as this one!) for a “pre-marketing” campaign for my upcoming book titled The Pilgrimage. My theory is that if I do enough to promote the book on my own before I finish writing it, and develop a proper readership for the book, then when I go to sell it to agents and publishing houses, then they can recognize me as someone capable of handling publicity and marketing, as well as a true Artist (or at least someone attempting to live up to such a title). I also plan on someday compiling and publishing a book containing just these articles, interviews, and other promotional releases in one volume organized by date. The Artist’s representation of his- or herself is something truly lacking in a lot of modern contributors today, and something I hope to reform. I’m sick of seeing quotes by Blood on the Dance Floor, Black Veil Brides, or whatever farce act is trendy today on Facebook proclaiming their message to kids as some phrase synonymous with “Just be yourself!” If you don’t have something worth hearing, there’s no sense in clouding the public conscious with your chatter. Hopefully when people read my writings they can see that I aspire to much more than that.
Speaking of which, a lot of younger girls from my high school who are into such bands seem to look up to me or idolize me as they do such characters. I’m both flattered by their adoration and insulted that they would lump me in with such “Posers,” as Matthew Lillard might have it. Seeing myself as a “survivor” of high school and being suppressed artistically by my peers, classmates, and school in many ways, I see it as a sort of duty to help support them in whatever they may want to do, so long as it is true to their selves. I even offered to pay one girl for her Artwork when her parents told her she’d never get anywhere or make any money off of it. I just hope to remind them that life isn’t about financial gain, or what that may bring you, but the journey of life itself, and the satisfaction one may get from it: The Pilgrimage. It’s a journey I have yet to complete as well as one that I hope to help others along. It’s The Shadow of the Valley of Death, the journey from Kether to Malkuth, Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb.”
By the end of the day it’s fascinating how different of a place I am now than when I first wrote in to Nely Cab’s “A Day In The Life Of…”, (A hundred thousand thanks for having me!) yet I am in no different a situation as I was before. I still suffer from claustrophobic loneliness, and overpowering lethargy, but here I am nearly two hours away from my home town. I suppose what I’ve really learned is that life isn’t about what you have, but what you do. I’ve come to terms with a lot of the struggles I’ve had in the past, but I’ve still got many landmarks to pass and many ways to go. It seems like new readers are always telling me “I can’t believe that I’ve waited this late into your writing career to jump on the bandwagon!” but in actuality, this is only the beginning. I’m young at 18, I’ve only written three books, and there is so much yet to come that I don’t think anybody can fathom where it will end. If nothing else, there are two things I wish to accomplish every day in the life of Todd Crawford: 1.) To let people know that I am something to watch out for and that I have some truly fantastical things in the making (starting with five upcoming books) and 2.) To become not only the Artist, but the person I have always aspired to become. By the end of 2013, my Potential and Real selves will be merged into the best of my capabilities.

Thank you, Todd, for sharing your day with us and thank you, readers for taking the time to stop by. I hope that you've enjoyed today's 
"A Day in the Life of..."

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

A Day in the Life of Todd Crawford




Hello and welcome to "A Day in the Life of..."©, a featured guest post exclusive to my blog that's published on Mondays and sometimes, on Thursdays. On these two days, a spotlight guest will share a normal day in their lives, giving us insight on their thoughts, projects, interests, obsessions and more. Occasionally, and if we're lucky, they'll even throw in a giveaway.

And now on with the show...

About Todd Crawford 

Todd Crawford (1994) was born in Mercer County, Pennsylvania, where he wrote his first three books, a Clockwork in the Stars, The Final Gospels, and his anthology The Black Season. His writing style is recognized as descriptive, cynically honest yet whimsical. His works obsess over the geography of the human mind, existentialism juxtaposed with the politically religious, and nature hearkening back to the Romantic era of literature. He first published a Clockwork in the Stars through Lulu publishing, but released his latter works under the CreateSpace banner before reissuing Clockwork with his new label. Although his only currently released works have been of the literary outlet, he has indulged in other orientations of Art such as music (having composed a companion piece for his novel, The Final Gospels), film (having adapted his novella, Brighter, into a short film), and comic books. Crawford is currently working on his third (traditionally structured) novel, The Pilgrimage, an abstract commentary of politics as he is browsing agents to market the release.

Connect with Todd Crawford

Facebook    Amazon      Goodreads


A Day in the Life of Todd Crawford: 
Todd Crawford Could Really Use A Time Machine Right Now

I wake up hung-over around Noon every day. I've never touched a drug or alcohol in my life, although I would never consider myself what some would call "straight-edge," yet I still can't shake the feeling that I woke up in a bed leapt into as a last resort in order to prevent any damage I may have otherwise caused in my latest of waking hours. I immediately grab whatever clothes are nearest as well as a bath towel before heading to the shower to wash away all lingering memories of the night. I actually enjoy my natural scent, but I find the thought of waking up in my own oils and greases rather unsettling, especially as a long-haired male who can feel the dampness of my roots pressing against the back of my skull.


After my shower (sorry to disappoint, but that's even more private business than I am willing to give out!) I typically begin my day by logging in to Facebook or spreading the pages of a comic book. I have always been fascinated and somewhat obsessive about comics, but I haven't felt this strongly about the craft since I was 12 years old. I like to consider it studying for a few potential comic series that I aim to get off the ground, but to be totally honest, I'm more likely just obsessed. The sad part is that I can feel a deeper connection to this than I feel with most of my fellow humans in this town, but more on that later! Being that I don't speak with many of my former classmates since Graduation (we'll get there, no worries now) or many people at all as of late my comrades on the Internet are some of the best social interactions that I get in a day. I'm perfectly okay with that, though, because I know that they do not want to take anything from me and vice-versa. They're probably healthier relationships than most I've had in high school, to be fair. 

Around 3 o’clock, I go downstairs and wait for my father to get home from work. I'm not the best at social interactions all of the time, but I always try to make sure to be around for when my father gets off work and we have our ritualistic family dinner. It's the one sanctity of our household, it often feels like, and one that I don't intend on breaking if I can help it. (Confession: I missed dinner today for a pizza party and four movies at a friend's house.) I usually don't get discuss my family with others because I often come off as bragging. I have this odd situation where I actually enjoy their company. Speaking of friends, I've been spending a lot of time with Randi Armour lately, a girl who has recently moved to my hometown, Greenville. This usually lasts until around 2:30 so that I can be home in time for dinner, or from 4 (or whenever she gets off work) through Midnight. (I used to stay over much later, but my family set a curfew and as shut in as I feel inside during the latest hours of the night, I would like to respect their wishes.) We'll watch movies, go to SHTZ, or go on walks, really casual-yet-entertaining things.

I go on a lot of walks, by the way, as in, at least two hours' worth of walking a day. I've heard it repeated many times on the tele that one solid hour of walking a day will help you lose weight, so I figured that if I walked two hours a day then I could be healthy and still have the liberty to eat as I please without consequence! Of course I have since learned otherwise, but the thought is pleasant, nonetheless. It's upon these walks that I really get to understand myself better. There is a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche that claims "All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking," and I find that statement very amiable. I used to hide myself between the trees of what little woodland remains in Greenville, PA, but the past six months or so I've found Main Street very interesting to walk down. The street itself is lined with bars and coffeeshops, and knowing that these establishments are not only open, but quite well populated and I am not inside of - or welcome inside of - either is truly isolating. I have always tried to avoid falling prey to unnecessary clichés, at least without putting my own twist on them, but one truly recalls the classic Vampyre mytho that the bloodsuckers cannot enter a building until they are invited by the home's rightful owner. Another reason I feel so repelled by the Main Street is because I was once welcome within these places, and I once conversed with their people. It all brings back a flood of memories, both good and bad. I walked the streets with a very close friend who I will never see or speak to again, and stopped to sit along benches and watch the river flow underneath the bridge. There are even more memories at the Riverside Park that I often frequent, as well. I used to trace circuits around the park with this same friend, talking or swinging (it sounds juvenile, but my concept of absolute happiness are two men in business suits dropping their suitcases and blasting off on a swingset together), but often both, until well beyond nightfall. If my memory does not fail me (and it very well may be, as I have long ago surrendered any sense of reality that belonged to my past for fiction, or "New Truths" as I like to call them) I had my second first kiss there. (Score!! ... *ahem, if you will, that is.) The park in general is a very magickal place to be, yet it is also very haunting. I feel unwelcome in this town, as if my time here has been spent, my quota of memories well past brimming and my eviction notice is long overdue. I think that in many ways, it is. The people of this town do not want me, nor do I want to live my life in such an area.

I've been really into comic books lately, as you may have heard. When I originally got 
started on them (with Sonic the Hedgehog, The World's Most Way Past Cool Comic! by Archie), I was very prejudiced and biased towards the superhero genre. It all seemed the same to me, yet just recently I have found a very deep connection to these modern mythologies. The superhero (be it Spider-Man, Batman or Iron Man, pick your choice) does not always want to go about the task at hand, and oftentimes there is a great deal of inner-turmoil within the character that the readership is shown thanks to editor's notes and thought bubbles. Recently, I have found that my relationship with my Art is not very different from those characters' to their life works. I feel that I owe it to the world to be the greatest possible Artist that I can be, and just as important as that, I owe it to myself. When I walk around Greenville I often wonder why I bother to keep up with myself, or why I haven't given up when everybody else so clearly wishes for me to, (How easy would it be for my detractors to write me off as a lunatic if I blew my brains out, per-se? "Oh, that Todd Crawford? He didn't have a clue and he was well off the deep end! Best thing he did with his life was end it," rather than seriously considering the messages I have to deliver and accepting that, hey, I may even have a point or two to make about society.) yet just as integral to Bruce Wayne as Batman is, or Spider-Man to Peter Parker, I believe that there is a similar relationship that I hold with my Art. "With great power comes great responsibility," as Uncle Ben would have it. 

To end my night, I usually head home and check all of my online profiles before retiring into bed. You may be asking yourself right about now "Wait! What about that whole writing thing!? What point is there in reading these posts if you offer no insight into your Artistic methods!?" Well, typically my Artistic process goes quite a bit like this. I spend months, sometimes close to a year this way, letting my ideas "gestate," as I like to think of it, before finally releasing them upon the paper (and you can be sure that when that time finally comes, I'm fit to burst). Just to humour you, the reader, myself, and Nely, for ever-so kindly inviting me to her fancy little page (I type that endearingly, without a hint of condescension!), let's say that this is a night where I take it upon myself to fit a little writing in before bed. I typically listen to inspirational music (whatever fits my current mood) and let the ideas possess me. I literally want them to take ownership over my mind and body, because I have been waiting, studying, and listening for so long to understand how these characters and plotlines may work, and finally I can let them just run free. I'll hear full conversations in my head, witness scenes that I am about to paint in the readers' minds, and formulate ideas revolutionary to the plot outline. Around Midnight (or earlier if my ideas just can't wait and I'm drawn to the page) I begin writing, a process that can last anywhere between two to eight hours. I write feverishly, and typically I'll have hundreds of pages lain down in weeks to make up for my otherwise stagnant nature. I often realize a lot about myself during this period, and I go to bed wholly contented. I know my place in the world, and tonight I have fulfilled it.



☺ 

Thank you, Todd, for sharing your day with us and thank you, readers for taking the time to stop by. I hope that you've enjoyed today's 
"A Day in the Life of..."