Writing Rant of the Day: I Am Who The Fuck I Am. · 3:45am Sep 4th, 2013
I know it’s been awhile since I’ve actually posted a story, or have had anything worthwhile to say blog wise. I know that since this isn’t about pornography, that only about ten of you will take the time to read this if you don’t unfollow me first and it’s to those ten people that I’m writing this.
You see, for the longest time I’d lost my drive to write. Words were becoming harder to string together, I couldn’t dedicate myself to sitting down and actually committing to the page, every time was just a lost cause, hours would fly me by and all I’d have to show for it was at best 200 more words while other writer’s would have cleared pages upon pages of exposition.
Coincidentally, for the longest person I’ve had this one writer friend who would always critique my writing style, or my stories simply because they weren’t simple enough, because they were doing too much, because they were needlessly florid. Because they didn’t just get right to the point .
And you know what? The criticism definitely took its toll because it’s been hindering my thought process for these past few months. I’d look at a passage and say, “no that’s too much”, or it could be less complex, or that metaphor/ simile is stupidly elaborate, and I’d get even less and less words flowing and the parts I really wanted to write would always just seemed that much further away.
How did I rectify this? By getting more and more pre-readers to pester for opinions every five hundred words, of course! At any time I can ask “How does this read? Is it too complex? Is it interesting? Are you sure? Can you give me more feedback?” And so far, I’ve got to say: it’s worked out just dismally.
I mean I used to just know my shit. I used to knock out sections like it was nothing and love what I wrote. My writing used to be a relaxing form of stress relief, but recently it’s been causing more stress than it’s been relieving. And then, today, I stopped. I stopped and thought about it. And you know what I found after all my thinking? I’ll give you a hint: It’s a fucking correlation.
To be exact it’s a correlation between my lack of progression as it relates to my newfound literary insecurity. See, in trying to fall in line with that individual's criticism and listening to him prattle on about his own stories and advice he’s read from other published authors, the only thing I have achieved is absolutely fucking nothing. If anything, that which was intended to help has merely hindered me and it is to no fault of the individual in question. If anything, it’s my fault, and I’ll tell you why.
See, I allowed him to convince me of a very viral fact which has been using my own thoughts as a catalyst to populate, leaving only busted husks from which more of its ilk might spawn. And that fact, my dears, is that he knew more about writing than I ever would, and that he was the shit that I should strive to smell like.
Well after suffering this particular stench for long enough, I stood up wandered over to an old outhouse of mine and began rooting through the dried feces. You’ll never guess what I discovered in that pile of my own cracking, contrived shit. It was the vaccine and the applicator looked just like this:
It wasn’t until today that it clicked in my head that the reason I’m so fucked in the fingers, is because I’m trying to hold my hands like that person (whom I bear no ill will towards, by the way, only feral lust). I’m trying to be ‘Punch-Out’ when my control scheme is laid out like ‘Street Fighter 3rd Strike’. But the thing is, I can’t be like that. I can’t fit into that jar, I can’t wear those tight pants.
I’m florid, I’m erratic, I’m full of pointless metaphors, purple text, and by whatever god you pray to damn it all, I love my fucking alliterations, and I love my thesaurus. I love stuffing my stories so full of content that by the time you slap that bun on the top, you won’t even be able to put the whole damn thing in your mouth. I love writing the pointless detours. I am who I’m going to be in the next five minutes, and I’m going to write like that person once I get done reading all the human-insect hybrid goodness of Terra Formars once I finish this blogpost. 
And you know what? If that makes me a bad writer, if that makes my stories less enjoyable, then fuck it. I’ll pick up my results, study them, learn what I did wrong and I’ll just go harder next time. In the immortal words of Ed Wuncler Sr. from ‘The Boondocks’ “We're Americans! We don't quit just because we're wrong! We just keep doing the wrong thing until it turns out right!”
Originate where others have emulated, stand where your peers crouch, and where others whisper, shout to be heard. That’s who I am, and that’s who I’m going to do.
And that is what I learned today. But you dear reader, what am I hoping you take away from all this? Get of the mold and be who you are. No one else, just you. But don’t be silent about it. Pick up the pen and shout to be heard, especially if you’re quiet.
Loathe,
Your Antagonist
P.S. To the person in question (you know who you are), no animosity here. I still love you.
I feel special.
Sounds a lot like what I've went through lately. Even quit a book over it, when I realized I was writing for other people, instead of myself. Being a writer means being yourself, and if you're not doing that, then there's no fucking point. Great blog post.
1327043
But what if your only motivation is writing for people?
Um, yeah, I didn't follow you for porn...
I think you're a good writer, if that means anything. And I adore purple prose, which is what I think you meant by "purple text"
1327047
I'd say that it's a motivation that can really come back to bite you in the ass. You need to be writing for yourself on some level. I've tried it before, but most of what I turned out was drivel that I hated writing, even if it was popular. I don't know, this is just personal experience, so your experience may vary.
1327056
Yup. I don't feel that way at all.
1327062
Well that just proves that, shockingly, we are different people with different experiences.
That was beautiful...
FLY, ANTAGONIST! FLY LIKE SOMETHING PRETTY, POETIC, AND ANOTHER P WORD! FLY WITH YOUR FLORIDITY AND PROSE! FLY WHERE I AND MANY OTHERS WOULD FAIL! FLY FOR YOURSELF!
And potentially pick up a pair of wings on the way.
Well, what I'm saying is that your statement here:
Nearly brought me to tears, because it is amazing and wonderful.
I'm such a sappy tree.
1327065
Dude, no way!
"I always say the absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence."
Amen brony. Each aythor has a certain style that works for him or her. Unless you're trying to publish a book, no one can tell you how to write.
Peace dude,
Magus
1327042
So do I.
I feel that each person has their own things they like writing about and each person has their own style of writing things. There are some writers who strive to write what appeals to others to get fans, and their are some who write what appeals to them and just so happen to get fans because of that.
You've always kind of struck me as the latter and it's something i've never had a problem with. I'm kinda here because of it. I'm glad to hear you're going back to it. I find your work to be random and funny and i hope it stays such, pornographic or not.
Keep doing what you do best, regardless of outside influences. Tis a philosophy i feel many would do well to follow.
There's always a thin line between 'helping' and 'stifling'. I've landed on the latter side a few times here and there myself.
Good for you on owning your voice. Hopefully it leads to many happily produced words.
Exactly. Trying to shoehorn yourself into a certain method and style is crippling and unhealthy for creative writing, though a lot of grammar nazis simply do not recognize this.
There is a particular author who frequents a chat I'm in who seriously needs to be slapped around until he grasps the idea.
Never let it be said that you aren't a breath of fresh air around this place. And I agree wholeheartedly.
I feel inspired now. That was awesome!
You are the writer that drifted off the road that has been marked the defined and into the true wanders of creativity. Words that differ from customary comprehension, words that evoke ecstasy and curiosity as intended.
Paragraph after paragraph buttered with content and creativity. The writer has passion, scripting the deepest inspiration from the inner self with cautious and observant effort like scripting the story with one's own blood, blood that the one desires to be likened by imagination of readers.
You aspire me and have engulfed a feeling of regret over the rejection of you (and many other inactive users) on Steam.