When One Is Not Enough
I need to get a job as a writer because my life is not interesting enough to write about myself all the time. I yearn for assignments with early morning deadlines for two reasons: one, pressure makes diamonds out of coal, and two, it will give me a topic to handle that is outside of my own life. Even if the assignment is terrible, it would permit me to bitch and moan about something other than myself, a welcome change. This blog has been self-centered since it’s inception, which is all well and good, but if it continues down this road without detour, I will bore myself to death before I reach that dark place by more natural or, perhaps, synthetic means.
The choice is clear. Either find a job where you can practice writing without playing it so close to your chest, for down that path is certain death, or man the fuck up and write some fiction, the genre where you can write about yourself without really writing about yourself.
Or, for God’s sake, find another hobby, man.