Overthinking it at 3pm, a writing exercise.

So addicted to overstimulation, but being a consumer is creative death. Sit in silence and let the emptiness fill you, then create instead. Boredom is our friend.

I will tell you a secret, dear. I draw and paint more than I write these days, because I can listen to music and make visual art. I can do it with half a mind and one foot still firmly rooted in Oversaturation (that is to say, the internet).

I have to stop pretending that anyone cares what I say. They don’t, and that is a gift. Trying to play to an invisible audience blinds your creative soul.

Trying to be the next George R.R. Martin is wounding my creative process. Listening to friends who say that fantasy and YA is trash is hurting my creative process. Maybe I’m not a Serious Writer, and I don’t write high literature. I can do a good job of writing my story, or a subpar job of writing someone else’s.

These are the only two options.

And if they like it, good;
and if they don’t like it, good.

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