The one where you get the world’s finest counterexample

Wow, just wow.

Ok, this one is short, because most of the talking is not going to be done by me. And please believe me when I say that I am not trying to be mean, not trying to dance at anyone’s funeral, or profit from anyone’s misery. Wait, wait, wait, let me be clear:

Anytime you write, you risk. Even considering the endomorphic body type writers commonly share, it is far less intimate to run naked in front of supermodels than to write something laden with one’s personal inner truth and put it into public view.

What writers craft is personal, it is private, and it takes the same kind of courage (insanity) one dredges up from the bottom of the soul to leap off a cliff into water of unknown depth.

I have been humiliated, publicly, by my idols. I have been told I am a talentless hack. I have had self important jackasses listen to an in-depth synopsis only to have them blithely state they only read fiction from one publisher, or of a different genre.  I have once been told by a man named Alfred Nunan that my words would – in fact – cause any cure for cancer to curdle in the Petri dish.

That being said, no matter how personal a slight, no matter how unfair a criticism, no matter how public the humiliation: Never. Ever. Under any circumstances, do this:

And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, scroll down to the comments section.



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