You wanna be a writer?
All joking aside, really though, why?
Do you really need less sleep? Do you want more stress? Don’t you have enough misery in your life? What, you don’t loath yourself enough already? You haven’t reached that specific plateau of self-hate quite yet?
Do you wanna wake at two in the morning with a one-of-kind-out-of-this-world idea only to blurry-eye your way through monkey-tapping and fat-thumbing the keys on your phone in such a way that when you wake it’s all red underlines of mish-mosh fuckery and you go apeshit nuts trying to decipher your own damn words only to say, “Fuck this,” and delete?
Do you want your friends to always ask what a word means? Or worse, ask, “Hey, what’s a word for that?” like we’re fucking dictionaries slash thesauri. Or, because you’re now a writer, would you like friends to ask about your thoughts on their ideas of stories they’ll never write. It’s like a test to see if you’re on top of your shit? Oh, WRITERS ARE ON TOP OF THEIR SHIT. ALWAYS.
But, I ask, who needs it?
This is not to deter you from writing. In fact, quite the opposite. If you have ideas, get them out. Write ‘em down. Let the creative flow. Writing is art and you need to art hard. Make writing notes a daily part of your life. The story in your head needs to be told or extracted surgically, and hey, that sounds like it’ll hurt like hell…so write.
Here’s the WARNING disclaimer: writing, it’s a lonely endeavor. Like solitary-sit-in-a-cave lonely. It’s you, a computer, and thoughts. Lots and lots of thoughts. And loneliness. And more thoughts. And then the loneliness. And then the decisive settling of dread. That’s the part where you think your writing is awful. And sucks. And well, bad. And there’s coffee. And probably scotch, maybe, but pretty much needed.