Book it

With the first book, I was like shit I’m nice I can write about whatever. I pick the topic, I don’t have to follow the scripts, I am my own boss. And then a rude awakening, writing wasn’t so easy. It actually was more stressful than working at a call center. And if you never worked at a call center imagine customer service and the customer is dead wrong, but you have to act like they are right all the time. That’s stressful, but writing a short story that shit was stressful. It was like writing a term paper, but you’re not being graded on it. It’s odd, you submit your work and then you wait for a reply. And the editors are so blunt, and I can understand that it’s their money, but they are so blunt, it’s scares a rookie writer into thinking they might suck. And in honesty I did suck. My stories had no climax, and no energy it sucked. But I was stubborn and thought my shit is the bomb. I thought I was a paid writer now. They need to understand my style of writing is the future. Pay me. Well my thoughts may not of been collective, but I was really good at ghostwriting. I was really good at taking somebody’s story and adding to it. I was so good that wait, wait… Contractually I don’t think I can talk about this so technically I am still a sucky writer… But with my second book. There was no pressure it was a journey. No money on the table. I just had a chance to work at my pace and express myself the way I wanted to be viewed. It’s a canvass not a mirror you’re looking at. This art is amazing. And while I’m excited I’m still shy about my book being published. I published it. It wasn’t rushed it was timely. And this is inspiring… And you’re not reading my shit until I get my printed copy. And side note… I need an artist…

Mad Jots

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