What Happened When I Gave Myself 10 Minutes To Write A Story Before Bed
The horrors of sleep thoughts and last minute publishing desires.
Severe imposter syndrome get out of my way. There’s no time to doubt, only to do. Must type fast. Fingers are flying. What will they think if I write out of tune? My reputation in shambles.
Cool. Hate me. Berate me. Tell me I have no right. Everything must be perfect. We all should strive to touch someone, educate, solve a problem, hit some tender spot.
But no, not me. Here I am. Raw and in your face. Know it all wonders ‘Shoulding’ all over me and you in 9 out of 10 stories. The hell I say. Every pathetic optimization spewing regurgitation can bite me.
Yes, I’m a lowly worm squirming to get a page of nonsense out for your enjoyment. But how could this be worse than all those profound stories? How much can a battered soul take?
Too much input. Too much ‘How To.’ Too much 1, 2, 3, and your on your way to a new career, and by the way, I made more writing this month than you could ever do articles(Not me by the way — I am not currently in the top 7%). May I tip my hat to you?
And, please complain some more. Please let us all know how you are displeased with our writing platform as you publish another story here. Please moan a little harder. I need some wine with my crackers.
Oh yeah, how about another article about how terrible Trump is? If you didn’t know that by 2016 I have to question your sanity. Do you think this subject is tired? I have hearing about Trump complaining fatigue syndrome.
Can I get a ‘What, What’!
But please, friends, regale me with your self triumphs, your realizations, history, and family wonder. Please give excellent writing instruction. Please load me up with fantastic fiction, horror stories, poetry, and imagination. Please write because the words are bursting out your soul and cannot be contained.
My time is up and I bid you a good night. Thank you, mighty page, for allowing me this rant. Thank you, great platform, for making this possible. Thank you, readers.
And the congregation said, “Thank goodness he’s done!”