I fucking hate talking to some bull shit fucking writers. I respect the ones who sit at the keyboard and fucking bleed on the page but some of you bullshitters put crap out there expecting us to eat that fucking bullshit up cause you set it in a post apocalyptic world.
Oh cool there are zombies and vampires, sweet shit it’s a teen hero trying to save the rest of the fucking human race from aliens using guns that look like butt plugs but I can’t call them that because sex sells as long as you don’t call it porn.
You pieces of shit make me want to pull my hair out. Going on reddit for advice when what you need is in the fucking library. “Oh I don’t have time to read but I know my calling is to be a writer.” Shut the fuck up you pieces of useless shit. Go teach yourself to jump rope cause all you do is talk in circles.
Stick to your day job if you have one. Like really? Talk about disrespecting the fucking craft. Some of the greatest minds in the world gave you a free portal to their brain and you want to claim you work the same occupation. Nah, you’re a pedestrian walking in the tourist lane thinking if you don’t carry a back pack people will think you’re a local. Well your party vibe is a dead giveaway because while this is a passion it’s not a fucking party. You don’t come here, write one sentence and claim to be Hughes or Ginsberg. You don’t edit it for spelling errors and speak of the struggles of re-writes. You don’t post on your social media telling people to check out your shit while openly celebrating your fucking ignorance like it’s a new years party on groundhog day in a dementia ward. I swear to fucking god your words make me want to slit the wrists of my keyboard and smear them from existence with as much ink as possible. Your syllables don’t deserve to breathe so bury them under water until the bubbles top.
I hate celebrated ignorance and lazy success.
I hate it so fucking much.