Below you will find writing advice that I, as a lowly amateur, don’t exactly agree with.
If this advice has worked wonders on you, I am eyes/ears/heart open. Comment and prove me wrong, if you feel so inclined! I dare you.
First, Ernest Hemingway’s most heavily circulated quote on le Tumblr and Internet. I’m not going to say I don’t drink when I write sometimes, because that would be a complete lie, but always? The main thing that makes me hate this quote (and the people who get it tattooed on their bodies) is the implied lack of effort. Hemingway was great at what he did, obviously, BUT! he was educated before intoxication, something college freshman (and sophomores, juniors, seniors, and super seniors) do not seem to grasp.
Sup freshman year of college! This Creative Writing 100 class is so tight! We can talk about sex and drugs and say fuck!? Well, FUCK, here’s my Ode to Getting my Dick Sucked, workshop! Don’t mind all the typos and smeared Chinese food all over it. Oh, you wrote notes all over it? That’s so cute. I’m not going to take your advice, though, because it’s Thirsty Thursday woooooooo!
I can’t take you seriously as an artist if you get black-out and then want me to praise your intoxicated ramblings. Sorry. Also, stop staring at me and sending me weird emails because I told you happy birthday. Creep.
Moving on. In the same vein, Master of Misogyny Charles Bukowski:
Just like Hemingway, I enjoy and appreciate his writing but who would want to be such an asshole?
Don’t try. Do not try. I’m so angry I can not even expand upon this.
There is a reason that the Modest Mouse song about him exists.
As I said in my first post, I have been fighting fighting fighting about getting back in the groove of writing and am currently in-between jobs. I thought that being temporarily unemployed AKA at leisure would mean I would cook, feel/get inspired/motivated and write all day and into the night! This has been… partially true. I have been cooking, but I’ve also spent a large amount of time avoiding sitting down and staring at an empty page by cleaning up after my 9 roommates (yes, 9 roommates) and sleeping 10 hours a night. Beginning is the hardest part, for me.
In more optimistic less angsty news: I just researched Delusional disorder for a play I’m trying to draft, and am boiling water for more coffee. Stay tuned, my little chestnuts.
A poem I have been thinking about now more than ever in this transitional period of my life is Kenneth Koch’s “So You Want a Social Life, with Friends.” Despite the fact that I am a little lonely, despite the fact that at the moment I am car-less, and it’s cold outside in Maryland but not as cold as Michigan, I do want a social life with friends… and that was my down-fall, creatively, for most of my undergraduate career.
New chapter. More writing, more reading. Less debauchery. Still some debauchery, just less so.
I’m trying to find a method that works.. a method that doesn’t include getting wasted and not giving a shit.
I’d rather do fantastic work that really hits home with someone and makes them think about their life/habits/relationships, THEN get wasted and cook a frozen pizza for my homies.
…Maybe I’m not cut out for this blogging thing.