...The blank page is your world. You
choose what goes into it. Anything at all. Upend the frothy cup that is your
heart and see what spills out. Murder plots. Train crashes. Pterodactyl love
interests. Vampire threesomes. Housewife bondage. Demon spies! Cake heists!
Suburban ennui! You can destroy people. You can build things. You can create
love, foster hate, foment rage, invoke sorrow. Anything you want in any order
you care to present it. This is your story.This is your jam...
...Writing is not about perfection — that’s editing you’re
thinking of. Editing is about arrangement, elegance, cutting down instead of
building up. Editing is Jenga. Writing is about putting all the pieces out
there. It’s construction in the strangest, sloppiest form. It’s inelegant. And
imperfect. And insane. It’s supposed to be this way. Writing is a first-time
bike-ride. You’re meant to wobble and accidentally drive into some rose bushes.
Allow yourself the freedom — nay, the pleasure —
to suck. This is playtime...Playtime is supposed to
be messy...
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