It roots inside your brain feeding on your ideas and thoughts, and memories and turns them into gorgeous looking flowere. You look back at those flowers, their shaded petals and you barely ebeliev how glorious a simple set of thoughts has been able to become. All it neededf was to be cultivated. Alll it needed was to be worked at. And yes, it might not be perfect or special, bhut you made it.
And It's yours damnit. You have wakean up with ideas and decided to shape them into words. Never thought about writing before. Youy read, for sure, but you never thought you'd be actrually able to form redable sentences. but as soon as you planted the seed, they started to flow out of you like a cascade of naturally interconnecting pieces of a machine. And there it was. Yoru creation. And yeah, it might be bad, but it's yours. A child. That breathes and lives and brings emotions.
But, sticking to that awful and overbearingly childish flower metaphor, the beauty needs dung to grow. Fertilizer, they call it? Still smells like shit.
And what it really is, is people. Humanity. Readers. Cause theres this horrifying conviction that a writers writes for others. And wants others to tell him their views on hsi writing.
No Bigger lie was told since the story aout children beign a blessing. (otr that god loves all of us). So allow me to give a quick list of a few of the abomninations on two legs that have caused me to quit trying to be creative once and for all. If you're one of those, kill yourself. no one will miss you and the gene pool will be improved by your absence.
1) The Unrequested Reviewer
This one is painful and spreads out more than STD's. They read a few pages, they know you, probably superically, like theyre horrifying third degree relatives whose usual reading abilities are very close to illiteracy, or theyre the drunk suburbia fucks that you sually cross the street to avoid. But damn, somone, probably uyour mom, gave thema copy of your creation. They read one or two pages and decided they were literary critics with a Leonard Maltin soul. So youll get this "Hey i really hated it. I tried to rerad it but i gave up". And list all the ways your chidl disppointed them cause it failed to be as deep as the only two books they read since they were ten. The major point behind that is the sorry idea that an authors WANTS criticism. And the even more messed up one that tellign abrasive point of views to a person on something they care for is "telling ti like it is". No one wants your opinoon. Ever. Keepo it to yourself.
Same goes froim Grammara Nazi and living spellchecks. If i want an editor, i'll get one. You shut the fuck up.
2) The Requested Reviewer That Is An Asshole
And also, whiel criticism is fine, a dispshit with a blog that decided to "revbiew" your book after yous ent ti to him for free, in hope of a dignified reaction and decided to dissect it like he's the lweastr hope for humanity's literary dingity, is pointless. A few web hits get to their head, they think their geniuses and in all your humblenesds you become their way to be legit. Fuck you, scab. Get a real Job
3) The Curious Fucks
No one likes interviewers, even when theyre professionals. And Repeating the sdame things to people that apparently need to feel intelligent by makin groudnbreaking questions like "How did you get the ispiration for this". And even worse, is the ones that dont understand that fiction and reality are usually two separate things. So what you write isnt necessarily aurtobiographical. And even if it was, its none of theyre goddamn business. Seriosuly, writing about murders or sexuality doesnt mean you ahve issues. ITS FICTION: Grow up.
4) The Assholes Who Tried
Look, im glad you tried to write too when you were 13 and then gave up cause you realized that writing is stupid. I'm also glad that your first novel was about a talking Mushrooms that discovered the true meaning of christmas. And also had sex scenes. Yes i am ok with eharing the story behind it. And how your dreams were crushed when you had yuour tenth baby. Can we move on now?
5) The Cyncials And Yoru Family
When i wrote my frist and only novel, this was the worst part. I know it was a leap of faith. I know i wouldnt probably amek money out of it. But hearing a parent tellign you every time they see you that "if you dont make a livign out of it then its a waste of time".
And it'0s even worse whena loved one or a friend does it. You dont have to udnerstand it people. All we want is support. And it doesnt atke much. If you love us, let us dream. Even if you think our dreams will eb shattered. tehy will, but we need you now and we will need you later. You shoudlòve known when you fell in love with an artists. We soar high and we fall hard. But thats part of the beauty, innit?