Them be fighting words. Sometimes it’s the most fun thing in the world. To throw down and just go at it. Sometimes its necessary. We are all way to pent up with repressed aggression aren’t we? All that stress of succeeding at our jobs, and staring at our computers just longing to break out the window and enjoy the sun (hopefully not fall to your death). Isn’t it healthy to just let it all out? Someone else might be looking for the same thing.

In case you can’t tell by now I am not talking about fighting another human being. I am talking about fighting our problems head on. For me, as a writer, let me tell you what problem I need to tackle head on. The fucking novel. You fucking heard me right. The fucking novel! It can be your greatest enemy and fucking destroy you if you don’t handle it fucking right. You gotta fucking take it out, beat it with a fucking stick, make it your fucking bitch, and teach it who’s boss. No mercy mother fucker, you beat that plot line down and never let it get the fuck back up. It’s yours. You’re in control and you face that fucking problem head on.

For others, like the athletes and musicians, I’d expect you do the same thing. Make that weight room your bitch and show that guitar who the fucking boss is. I know it’s artistic to wait for inspiration, but I just call it fucking lazy. If you aren’t working to find that inspiration you’ll never amount to anything. Same thing with luck. Not everyone is fucking lucky. And some lazy fucks do luck out. But most of the time, luck is a fucking synonym for someone who works hard and it finally fucking pays off.

Don’t fucking back down. Face those fucking problems head on and ask if they wanna go. Throw down, lay it out and take over. This is your time fucker so don’t fucking waste it on fucking netflix. Do something about it. Take that nervous unfinished feeling you have in your stomach and unload it across the page. Write your novel with a knife to the computer’s throat and make sure every drop of ink is spilled on the page. Hold nothing back. No fucking regrets.

I need to get back to working on this fucking book of short stories. Yeah! I fucking practice the words I fucking preach fuckers!

-Fuck it.


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