Reflection.

Me, Trying to Write a Story

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You can’t start because you don’t know everything about everything and thus you’re writing from an uninformed place. If you knew all of that stuff it would be a much better piece—you could flesh it out with smart, intriguing anecdotes that would cause people (half of whom wouldn’t even get them) to think highly of you. I suppose you could fake it a bit, insert some weighty names here and there, but it doesn’t have the same ego-boosting effect when you yourself know you’re full of shit. You also haven’t read all the important books on writing, so you’re probably missing a few crucial insights that all other writers are sitting on like golden fucking eggs. Their writing is surely better because of that, and you’re probably screwing up in some major way that all those writing books have warned against.

And, listen, you just don’t have the right ingredients for a story here, and you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen when, and so you shouldn’t bother taking that leap. Because while it’s fully acceptable to waste three hours on Netflix, or reading as much Internet as you can, it is not acceptable to spend three hours using your brain and creative energy to try to craft something that might end up being a giant nothing. No, that’s not okay because you have higher hopes for it, unlike your Netflix-ing, which you set a very low bar for and expect nothing from.

When you set out to write a story or a piece or a book or whatever the fuck’s up your alley in that moment, you put your entire life on the line, which is unhealthy but a hard habit to change. And you have so many other shitty habits to change, anyways. But seriously if this goes wrong you will have to face all your awfulness head on, look your bad writing right in it’s boring, simple font and accept yourself as less-than, and that’s really hard for you because you do that every day in, like, every other fucking sphere of the world. It’s so much easier to think you’re an okay writer who could be great if you just allowed yourself to be, you know? Like, THAT’S a great myth to live with, actually, and you’d highly recommend it to others if it wasn’t such a hollow little shit that ultimately amounted to nothing.

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