Very appropriate to revisit this post since I’m currently struggling to get out a story.
Writing is painful.
Writing is cruel. It begs an audience and only for the few lucky is there ever any applause. Best case scenario, a friend or family member will read the sentences you practically had an aneurysm to arrange perfectly and offer you some shallow piece of encouragement. But everyone knows the words of the biased don’t count for crap. If anything it sucks more because it feeds all your fears, those lies of incompetency you feed yourself daily for breakfast, lunch, dinner…like a good cereal you keep eating when you need to go to the store for real food. You can’t seriously believe a word of biased opinion because you never quite know it’s true.
But you can’t stop writing just because of that because even though you may get no applause, you avoid having hemorrhoids. Trying not to write when your head is a mass of creative…
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