π”½π•’π•žπ• π•¦π•€ 𝕃𝕒𝕀π•₯ π•Žπ• π•£π••π•€ – 𝕄π•ͺ β„‚π•™π•–π•žπ•šπ•”π•’π• β„π• π•žπ•’π•Ÿπ•”π•–

For the past few days, I’ve been in a creative slump. My dream has always been to be a bestselling author. I wanted books on the shelves. I wanted a massive line of people, waiting for my autograph. I wanted to be known. 

But I really thought about it and did some research and realized all that stems from ego. It won’t make me a better writer. 

It wouldn’t even validate the quality of my writing. 

I have money coming in, so it’s not like I necessarily need the income. Sure, six or seven figures would be great, but it’s not desperately needed. 

To quote a song… 


“I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone.” 

So, I’m going to keep on writing because, to quote a famous author, “when I write, I don’t feel like I should be doing anything else.” I just feel the characters and I feel the words that connect them to each other. I feel that symmetry, that flow, and it’s like watching a river trickle over rocks. There’s a chaotic, peaceful pattern to it all. 

And that’s worth writing about. 

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