Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.
~Yeats
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I had an author tell me a few weeks ago that if you didn’t write exceptionally you were using up oxygen for better artists & debasing true art. He made me see red. Very little makes me this angry… I mean besides my kids. How does one become a writer except to write? How does one become a better writer, except to write more? How does one explore the beauty they feel, if cuffed and tethered? Do I have to have a Pulitzer Prize to be considered a true artist? Do I have to have the eloquence of Tolkien or the melancholia of Poe to be a true writer?
Art is birthed, grown, and nurtured like every living thing. A baby is not born ready to eat a full course meal, first they must learn to master sucking, swallowing and breathing before they move on to steak.
One must learn how to hold a pen, before you can use a pen, and even Tolkien and Poe had to learn how to put immature thoughts to paper. And fuck by doing it often, look at the worlds they created with their minds and pens.
So people. You and I may never create multi million dollar series that get made into movies about vampires and wolves. But God dammit we can tell our stories, and be free to do so, without fear of being not good enough. Because there is only one you, one mind like yours and one being maturing like yours. So don’t be afraid to try, just write. Your heart is worthy to express and be heard, and your lungs are worthy to breathe the same air as the writers who have written epic stories. Create and bask in the pleasure, of birthing your art.
©Entirety 2016
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