When did you realize you had a talent for writing? You have a knack for giving voice to emotions and drives that I assume many men possess, yet simply lack the skill to translate into words.
An interesting question that I had not really thought about much until now.
A little history lesson first. I was a total fuck off in high school, barely graduating but had they had they given out honors for how to pack a bong and eyeball a dime bag so as to not get ripped off 50 cents worth of dirt weed, I’d have been the fuckin’ valedictorian.
Eventually, I started caring about my education in college, graduated summa cum laude (that’s called bragging), but truthfully I always enjoyed science and math more than language studies, even though English came easier. I guess it just never was very hard for me to write what I was thinking.
In college, I always wrote decent papers, but that is different than this. When you are writing a paper about the effects of television violence in Psych 101 (also known as Training Wheels for College 101), or the Berlin Airlift in cold-war Germany, it’s boring and has no heart. You may try and punch it up with some politically-charged Malcolm X quote on the cover page, but it’s still not really all that personal.
When it comes to writing – as a means to express myself – well, that is a bigger story. I wrote a post about the death of my best friend once called Sometimes. What I didn’t write in it, is that he was a blogger/writer – an exceptional one – and he wrote about something very personal as well; his march towards death.
What really happened to me during those years is that I saw how a person could write and pour their heart into their words, yet still use the same voice in the manner in which he spoke, exposing his personality that I had come to know for so many years. I was half-expecting an editorial and what I found was the heart and mind of my best friend. His same sarcastic dickhead personality that I had come to love.
It was him – in his words. It changed me. I still go back often and read it, especially when I am lacking inspiration, so that I can remember him in all his dickheaded, asshole, awesome, caring voice – but also to remind myself that when you expose yourself in your written expression, you are providing yourself, and anyone willing to listen – like you right now – the most intimate and human side of who you are.
It was one of the hardest chapters in my life I’d say, but as an adult, one of the most formative ones too, that has shaped me in only positive ways. I am not sure I’d be writing here, or at least taking it seriously, had that not happened.
Today, I read an article on Medium about writing – and if you are a writer – why you should write. One thing that stuck out to me in it was that the author was saying something very simple that I believe holds true in my case.
It basically was this – I don’t think I am the best writer. I think I am good. In fact, I know am fucking good. I know I can get better and I know I will, but there will always be people far better than me. But there are some people in this world who have a gift that is beyond what I am capable of, which by the way is just fine by me because they in many ways become a source of inspiration. I think exoticeva and freelydone are those types of writers. They inspire me to improve, both as writers and in just raw expression. What I mean by “raw expression” is this – if you have read freelydone’s recent piece on her anger towards Tumblr and having to feel like society tells her sexuality is wrong, or being ghosted, or Eva’s piece on her first D/s experience and you were not genuinely moved to your core, then I am afraid nothing will move you. There are some people out that are just amazing – these two are in that lot.
But one thing I am – when it comes to writing – is a judgemental dick. More importantly, when it comes to self-expression.
If you are a writer, you better fucking care.
I personally don’t give a fuck what you write about – but you damn well better care. That is how I feel and it was the premise of this author on Medium too.
When I see other erotica writers on Tumblr who deviate from this basic rule and are obviously pandering to essentially a similar, though clearly less-selective and no-doubt far less intelligent group than my readers. Well, when I see that – all so they can drum up follower counts – it makes me fucking cringe.
When you can see that what they write is all mechanical and they don’t actually feel what they are saying – I think they suck ass – as people – all the way down to their fucking core. Overreacting? Maybe. But um…No.
This is a highly personal side of the human psyche and to fabricate it for popularity is a crime against their own souls, how I see it.
They are selling a side of themselves, and I think the people that actually click Like on their posts are almost as pathetic for being a cheerleader for this shit, clapping their hands like a bunch of dumb fangirls for their lame-ass, monotoned, typo-swollen D/s garbage.
Like I said, I am a dick sometimes – but at least I back my shit up when I write. Nobody ever would accuse my posts of being void of passion, underexposing my innermost thoughts, or that they feel manufactured or fake in any way. I’d rather never write another piece in my life than write one that I don’t feel.
Thank you for the Ask and allowing me to flip the proverbial bird to all the faker fucks out there that think some people don’t see right through them.