Being a mediocre writer myself, I know that there are scores of writers far superior in skill, impact, and fame who spent their lives passionately avoiding writing until their muses struck them, or until it was time to make another buck...Chekov once stated that medicine was his calling and literature was only a pastime...Tolstoy professed to hate writing...Thomas Pynchon and Charles Baudelaire both had negligible outputs compared to the lengths of their careers...Though not exactly sophisticated literature, Harper Lees one novel has staggering impact, in America at least... Many great writers lived lives dissolute and without feeling the vain compulsion to preserve their every trial, tribulation, and brain-fart for posterity...For the most part, I write forgotten and self indulgent erotica tinged with antiquated psychobabble and awkward flourishes, which may bore even me...If I could write with the words of Dostoevsky or Bill Faulkner I may consider them a moment longer before rejecting them as self-congratulatory elitism, but either way, its crap...In my humble opinion, its the quality of ones work thats important, not the dedication of the author nor the quantity of their output...But again, thats just me...
Posted on: Tue, 08 Apr 2014 00:59:59 +0000
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