I love the smell of shitty writing in the morning

Let’s face it. I suck. You suck. We all suck. My advice? Get good at it. Get used to it.

Another sunrise, another blank screen. How did I do after yesterday’s fiasco? (Am I the only one with fat fingers continually hitting the wrong keys while they type. Drives me crazy but boy, I’m fast with that back-space key… back to yesterday’s fiasco) Well, I ended up not writing the stuff I needed to write. But I picked up another job and banged that out. Riddle me that Batman.

Nonetheless here I am again. Whilst sitting on my sofa, sucking a decent cup of coffee I realized that since I’ve gotten rid of Facebook, I’ve rediscovered the internet in all its glory. What has that to do with any of this morning’s pump priming? Not a damn thing. I’m just putting words on paper. Remember?

However, there is this little tidbit: I started reading my WordPress.com feed. Interesting stuff. I like reading what everyone is up to. I gravitated towards a few writerly blog posts which talked about the craft. Hmm I said, I have no craft. I’m good with that. (My uncle once said to me while kicking my ass in a game of pool this: “I’d rather be lucky than know how to play the game. Solid advice.) You see, I suck.

I’ve said that already haven’t I. Well, like I said, I suck. See, we could play that game all day. And at the end it won’t matter because it’s all about wordcount anyway. (Never mind the self-referential implication of time, space, and reality. 😊) (I hate it when a word processor puts an emoji in place of the old school colon and parentheses. I also hate not knowing how to spell. Oh well, like I said, I suck….)

The game here is about money. I freelance. Been doing it a long time. (He types in his best gritty street detective voice. Standing in a trench coat, Lucky Strike dangling from his lips. Pulling a draw from the smoke, he takes the cigarette from his mouth, spits a piece of tobacco from his lips and exhales a slow, creamy plume of smoke. Low hissing from his chest….) What’s that you say? What are we talking about here Dan?

Let’s summarize:

  • Yesterday I surmised if I simply sat down to write about anything, my word pump would prime.
  • I did just that, and to my chagrin, nothing like what I expected happened. I still didn’t write.
  • Well, I wrote, but not the stuff I needed to write. Still made money though. (Go figure)
  • Today I continued that path. But with a twist. Can you spot the twist? Honestly, do you care? I don’t.
  • Now, I’m sitting here trying to get that word count. How am I doing?   

Now, in all fairness I want to try and leave you with something. Something of value perhaps, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. (Just hit 500, that’s the break point for most internet freelance work. (That tidbit is of value I guess.)) We all suck at this. Period.

I went interviewing with a brick and mortar agency a while back. Got to talking with the editor and she was reviewing one of my pieces. She tore me up. She laughed in my face. I thought to myself: Shit, I must be doing something right if I’m getting emotion. Come to find out, she got fired, I’m still working. You see, this is not necessarily journalism. Remember that.

It is also not art, or anything like that. We write pornography. Yes, pornography. Schopenhauer has something to say about art here. I don’t do art. I do Porn.

How do I make sense of that? Here’s how. (Settle in a moment, this takes some build up.)

I read a lot. One of the guys I like to read is Joseph Campbell. If you’re interested in writing something that isn’t pornography, or at least something close to readable fiction, you should read him too. Anyway, back to porn.

Somewhere in my journey with Joe, I heard him quote someone way smarter than me (not hard to do) that art is only art when it exists for no reason at all. That is, art is simply there for art’s sake. Porn is any representation of the world that isn’t art. So, you see, we are all porn writers. I hope you’re good with that.

So let’s all have a good porn writing day, okay?

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