Dear fellow writers:

The belief that you have to live a horrible life first and then write your experience in order to become a great writer is a lie.

They lied to us. Every single one of them lied to us. The movies I mean. The books. The media. The reptilians.

Yes, Dostoevsky was psychologically tortured, imprisoned, they even staged a fake execution against him.

Yes, Tolstoy led a life of asceticism that drove his wife insane.

Yes, they wrote great books.

But do you have any idea of what stories you could hear from a homeless from Calcutta who has wandered every corner of the city, is above 40, and survived to tell the story? He might be the greatest storyteller in the whole world. He might put a magical spell on you that makes you feel perpetual bliss for eternity.

But if he doesn’t sit down to write, he will never be the greatest writer in the world.

In order to be the greatest writer in the whole interdimensional reality, you have to write.

CAUTION: There are bullshit writers. Not in the way that I’m a bullshit writer, but in that they write about, let’s say, a heroin junkie with AIDS in Brooklyn during the 15th Century in an alternate reality where everyone has the face of a washing machine. Or just the story of a fucking junkie, alright? And they have never, in their entire lives, gone through anything close to addiction in their lives. They have their great grammar, proper story archs, coherent and cohesive ideas and full-fleshed characters. They might even be known for their poetry, too! But, they know nothing about addiction and they’re the daughter of a great Dutch Architect so they experiment with art because it is in the family and they have a nice pool in their backyard. Those are bullshit writers.

In order to write about something, you have to experience it in your own flesh and bones to make it, well, the greatest thing ever.

ADDENDUM: How do you write about, well, fiction, then? You haven’t been in a SKYNET concentration camp. Is your Terminator fan-fiction bullshit then? It depends. In order to create something that doesn’t yet exist you have to get something, perhaps a shadow from the wall of a cave, that gives you an idea of an even greater shape mixed with: the things that others have made to exist before and you have acquired that experience through some media, and your own awful, horrible life. If you do that, then your Terminator fan-fiction is probably great and I’d like to read it.