Because I’m really getting tired of having to be patient with asshats.
Yes, I’m a girl and yes I have boobs so get the fuck over it. Not only that but yes, on occasion I do where tank tops that sometimes decide to slide down because when the gods were done making hell they left a small piece up top called Texas and as we all know, it gets hot and humid here really fast.
But does that give you any reason to state that you can see my cleavage? Or blatantly stare as if I can’t see you? No. I didn’t think so. Nor can you simply assume that I’m some kind of slut, skank, whore, or anything like that and say it so loudly behind my back as if I can’t hear you.
I wouldn’t mind you politely telling me that my shirt has slipped down some, but if you’re gonna be an ass then I’m gonna be a bitch right back.
What ever happened to my nice guys who were…well, sweet and nice? Did aliens take them? Did they die of good deeds? Or was my friend right and they all became asses later in life?
Gods, I’m so damn tired of being called something I’m not when I hardly ever wear low cut shirts or tanks: I only wear them when I have to be outside in the heat for long periods of time and anything else is just painful to wear…
So…I’m thinking of becoming a hermit…Maybe in North Canada. Then I won’t have a reason to wear tanks.
In order to be able to call yourself a writer, all you have to do is write. But I have another piece of advice: Don’t go passing out business cards emblazoned with that word just yet. (…)
Ignore James Brown’s advice to get up offa that thing — sit down on that thing and write. It doesn’t matter what you write, but it matters that you write.
It also matters that you read — and, similarly, the what isn’t as important as the that: that you read. Read literary classics and airport novels and graphic novels. Read biographies and memoirs and as-told-tos. Read magazines and newspapers and blogs. Read about people and places and things real and imagined.
But learn to distinguish between bad writing and good writing and great writing. Notice the style and tone and technique of the great stuff. Don’t try to imitate it, but recognize it and what it does for your reading experience. Think about what you want the experience to be like for your readers.
Don’t forget, though, the most important reason to write: for your own enjoyment — the joy of creation, the joy of reading the story you had to write because nobody else had done so until you came along. Don’t write with any goal in mind except this one: to complete a story — a novel, a novella, a short story, a short short story — so that you can read it. (…)
What are you waiting for?” —Mark Nichol (via writingadvice)