Gotta have a head like a wrecking ball, a spirit like one of them punching clown dummies that always weeble-wobbles back up to standing. This takes time. Stories need to find the right home, the right audience. Stick with it. Quitting is for sad pandas.
Chuck WendigHere are the two states in which you may exist: person who writes, or person who does not. If you write: you are a writer. If you do not write: you are not. Aspiring is a meaningless null state that romanticizes Not Writing. It’s as ludicrous as saying, “I aspire to pick up that piece of paper that fell on the floor.” Either pick it up or don’t. I don’t want to hear about how your diaper’s full. Take it off or stop talking about it.
Chuck WendigTags: humor advice aspiring-writers
Vampires are slicker than goose shit on a glass window. Suave. Sultry. I'm neither of those things
Chuck WendigTags: vampires blackbirds chuck-wendig
Vampires are slicker than goose shit on a glass window.
Chuck WendigTags: vampires blackbirds chuck-wendig
Stories are like wine; they need time. So take the time. This isn’t a hot dog eating contest. You’re not being judged on how much you write but rather, how well you do it. Sure, there’s a balance — you have to be generative, have to be swimming forward lest you sink like a stone and find remora fish mating inside your rectum. But generation and creativity should not come at the cost of quality. Give your stories and your career the time and patience it needs.
Chuck WendigCreativity needs time. We’re all dying. Fuck stagnation. High-five creation.
Chuck WendigDid you just say shrug instead of actually shrugging?
Chuck WendigWhat...what are you?" she asked.
"I'm Batman.
The shelves had been stripped bare and battered to Hell, as if some super-important Christmas toy release had come and gone and an army of Super-Moms had ripped through the store, buying everything up like an all-consuming void. Didn't hurt that many of the shelves were lined with piles of bones both animal and human.
Chuck WendigAnd oh, could he smell them. It wasn't just the stench of body sweat. It was the rancid odor of human meat. With every breath they gave it off. Blood under their tongue. Long pork between their teeth. Eau de cannibal.
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