Wednesday, June 10, 2009

You know that certain appendage on a brass monkey...

Balls. Do you have them? Anatomically, I don't.

But in my work, I definitely do.

No matter what I'm writing, I'm willing to take chances. I'm willing to pay to play. I'm definitely able to write good stuff.

So why the hell don't I?

Well, a couple reasons. I am not pounding out publishable prose on the first draft. Unless I somehow become a genius in the next twenty-four, I don't think I ever will. That doesn't mean it's not good, just not publishable on the first go around.

When will it become publishable, you ask? Fuck if I know. I'm not a big believer in faith, no "It'll get better" for me. To me, it's shit, will always be shit. It's never perfect enough.

This holds me back? Sure it does.

My problem, not yours... unless you want to read, and then you're fucked. Double fucked.

But I'm trying! I'm sending out short stories to different magazines, getting good--no GREAT-- feedback. Will it ever happen? Maybe. Probably. Does this mean I'm better?

NO! A big, giant, resounding NO to be exact. It's hard work, writing a good story. People say, "Anyone can write a story."

Yes, yes they can. But I don't just want to write a story anymore. I want to write a good one, one to be proud of, one I can point at and say, "I did that!" without a big, fat face full of red shame. Okay, okay, I know my face isn't fat, but still...

So, what does that make me?

It makes me a writer. We all want our works to be better. That's why we edit non-stop. Yeah, that's loads of fun. But in truth, it really is fun. It's a blast. But it's frustrating, confusing, and intimidating all at the same time it's being fun, too. It's a roller-coaster.

It's a drive through the mountains.

It's a day without a night.

It's a beautiful spring morning.

It is... whatever I want.

So, why can't I get it right?

Answer: Because no matter how perfect I want to be, I am as fallible as any other. I have flaws, for fuxake!

I am beautifully flawed.

Imperfectly perfect.

Pessimistically pessimistic.

Incredibly gorgeous... Oops! Didn't mean to type that one. Oh well, it stays.

Really, this is just a post for the sake of posting. I really just wanted to say that a person needs to have a pair. Other than that, I have no idea what I'm saying here.

Do I ever?

Peace & Love, y'all


  1. EF, when the FUCK did you hijack my brain? This post is very much me. But don't despair, I only know of one writer who claims his first drafts are pretty much the finished product--Ton Clancy--and I don't read him.

    And yeah, you're gorgeous... just don't tell my wife I said that, wink, wink.

  2. I won't tell your wife, if you don't tell my husband.

    As for brains... it seems I'm sharing a lot of people's recently. That only means that you guys are just soooo screwed.

    And funnily enough, I don't care for Tom Clancy either LOL.

  3. even geniuses have to edit, mostly. Nabokov being one famous example.. I think it takes time and going over things again and again before any writing comes alive, unless you're just lucky.