Sometimes, I wonder if I’m a different breed of human. Maybe I am. After all, I write.
Maybe, the distinction that I write is why I seem to have problems with communicating with people about writing.
Odds are that all of us writers have met the group I’m thinking about.
I’m not talking about the “Oh! When will you be published?” or “So one day you will be famous!” gangs. No. I’m talking about the: “Oh what is so difficult about it?” and the “I could write a book with my eyes closed” gang.
To become even more specific, there is a faction in those two gangs that makes my blood boil. The “You’re going about this all wrong!!!!” crew.
I mean… seriously, if they were so wise and wonderful and knew everything there is to know about how to optimally work towards publishing, why in the name of all that is holy, AREN’T THEY PUBLISHED?
Yes, they can’t write with music (or at all, as is attested by the fact that their idea of a completed work is a text message) or they think that my preferred music is an absolute creativity killer. Or they think I should have a ten foot tall Easter Bunny whispering plot ideas into my head.
I couldn’t give a monkey’s arse. Because guess what. They’re not QUALIFIED to even give me a tip.
Let alone CRITICIZE MY METHODS!
How arrogant must you be to insinuate that my writing things in a certain way is stupid and bound to fail? After all, I have finished a first draft. They haven’t even attempted to write an essay.
I might as well go to Hussein Bolt and tell him he’s running wrong.
And you know the worst of it?
I NEVER ASKED THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.
Generally, I smile blandly and imagine creating a character in my head that will die violently. How do you deal with these uhm… professional advisers?