LC: Dude, you were published in a literary magazine whose
publisher rejects thousands of manuscripts a week. That’s a huge
accomplishment, bro. You’ve got too way much talent to think about quitting.
GW:There’s no home for my short stories. That literary magazine
you mention butchered my story, squeezed the blood out of it, and turned it
into the editor’s paltry vision, not mine. Is that the reward I get after
decades of writing? Bullshit.
LC: Even if there’s no “home” for your short stories, you should
write them.
GW: Why?
LC:Because they’re great. They should be in those anthologies
with Chekhov, Cheever, and Balzac.
GW: I think I’m going to puke.
LC:You know it’s true.
GW: Can you cool it with the literary comparisons? I just ate
breakfast.
LC: I stand by what I said.
GW: Okay, give me a million dollars then. Or is that too much
from an Audience of One?
LC: The hell with money. That’s not why you write.
GW: Really. That’s news to me. Then why do I write? To feed my
ego?
LC: I sure hope not. Who gives a crap about your ego? You can
flap your wings in front of your intended audience all you like, but that isn’t
going to appease your insecurities. You need to know who the hell you are,
what’s important, and have the dignity and courage that comes from being
centered. An uncentered life results in shame and anxiety, which people
compensate for by trying to impress others. Come on, dude, you don’t need to
fall into that trap.
GW: It’s too late. I write with the idea that people will be
impressed.
LC: There’s your problem. As long as you care about what others
think, your life will be trivial. As long as you see yourself as a victim whose
stories can’t find a home, your life will be one of failure. I’m trying to
shake you out of your stupor.
GW: Like I said, it’s too late.
LC: Or maybe it’s not too late. Rather, you’re too scared to not
to be trivial and to not be a failure. You’re too damn comfortable just as you
are—feeling sorry for yourself and giving a shit about what people think of
you.
GW: Let’s say I agree with you. Let’s I want to embrace your
vision of change. Then what?
LC: You can start by writing about things that aren’t fueled by
the desire to make money or the need to impress others. You can actually write
about stuff that you really means something to you.
GW: And how am I going to market this? Say I write meaningful
stuff and no one reads it. Then I’m the tree falling in the forest that doesn’t
make a sound except to myself. Then I’m just a solipsist. You seem intent on
trivializing my rage, but I see my condition as not unique to me, but the
condition of many—there are a lot of smart people out there who can’t connect
with others because people are too absorbed by trivia. I have every right to be
pissed off about that without you labeling me a self-pitying, trivial victim.
Got that? So get the hell out of here.
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