They are in relationships with the most sensitive, emotional, and passionate people out there.
Just like sex sells, so do tabloids and sadly, the written word is becoming less “written” and more clickbait.
Greatness doesn’t come from a single great idea or Eureka moment. It comes from painstakingly borrowing other people’s work and building on it. We steal our way to greatness.
We don’t always write about the people who flatter themselves thinking we do. We don’t always shine a spotlight on every story.
We’re tired of people who use the work we’re not proud of to judge us.
I mean, they say that we are all just stories in the end, after all. Right?
Maya Angelou rented hotel rooms to write (even though she owned a house) and drank a cup of sherry (even at 6:15 in the morning).
They told me it was a hobby, not a job. That I’d never get paid for writing. That I should go back and get a proper job with a pension plan and dental and stop trying to get paid for something I enjoyed doing.
I’m sorry, I’m really not sorry. You can tell me I’m a psycho person still in love with my first love, or that I’m a terrible person for writing about an experience I had, but look, this is my passion as well as the way I make my money. I don’t give a shit what you think.
It’s an incremental, iterative journey. You don’t magically arrive. Ever. You just strive to get closer.