So, apparently to make a book you have to have a series of psychological break downs and rebuilds. There are parallel processes of critiquing going on between the art project and the artist. The book is refined, along with your opinion of yourself, but there is healthy chunk of impurities in man’s modern psyche, and so the process of self refinement is scary and emotional. It is also very elating. Transcendent. The struggle is real.
You hear the same things from writers; it becomes like having an affair. You’re always sneaking off, piddling about. Your partner watches the ups and downs as you fall in and out of love with your affair, and then that makes you love them even more for tolerating such a fool, and then if the works sucks too then the world is doubly at a loss and that just sucks even more. I don’t want my writing to just be a hobby, another thing I’ve tried to do that didn’t quite work. I want it to be great. I want it to entertain but I also want to create discourse and inspiration. I want to create the best meal of someone’s life, not just another trip through the drive-thru.
It always comes back to self-responsibility. You have got to work. You have got to do things. You can’t just sit around, but then the most curious thing happens. You ditch the thing which triggered this realization; you go to the distraction.
I think the turn-over moment is when you are so committed to your project that you start wasting time better, like cleaning the house or exercising. You realize how sometimes you can just be a whiny lazy ass bitch and if you just focused yourself and worked hard things would happen. If you turned off the goddamn music, and internet, and youtube and twitter and just spent some time thinking this project through, it would be done! So what do you do you do? You go do a blog post…