Dear You
Let’s see what’s in the sponge before I burn it
I’ve been thinking about writing you this note for a while.
I’ve been thinking about writing a lot of things for a while.
Too long, some may have said.
Too long, you may have tweeted.
So here I am writing to you, thanking you for checking in, for sending prompts, for making an effort to let me know someone out there misses the silly words I used to scribble.
I haven’t stopped scribbling, but I did stop sharing.
Why is that?
I don’t know, it just all seemed so pointless. I got tired of reading trauma porn. I got tired of reading stories by “gurus” who kept sending me emails laden w/ more errors and typos (and genuinely incorrect, if not poor grammar) than Reddit has know-it-alls.
I got tired of the complaining. Ever since I’ve been here, people have been moaning about “it’s not how it was” or “the system is broken” or “I can’t make money like I used to.”
The battle of the literary writers vs the digital writers. Hacks schilling themselves as copywriters. Bros threading their way into the pocketbooks of the digitally naive. The join-my-cohort-so-I-can-feed-you-recycled-tropes-from-older-cohorts. The how-to-get-distributeds…
