Being a young writer of typically cliched artist’s leanings, I realized that my best creations come from suffering. Angst, frustration, bitterness, the weeping of my heart as I lose faith in people,this is all fodder for my writing. Anger or discontent is what drives me, at least for the vast majority of my more dramatic and more well written pieces. So clearly anyone who reads this will think, “Man, this is one fucked up guy. Always bitching and complaining, there’s never a good day in this guy’s life. Even if it was raining dollar bills on a sunny day and kittens and puppy dogs snuggled up to him on the streets this guy would find something to be depressed about.”
It’s far from the truth though. I just happen to feel more like writing when I have some negativity in my life. Taking a page from One Hour Photo, if you were to look a family photo album, you would think that their existence was one of happiness. But just as those photos are snapshots of a happy time, many of my writings are the trappings of a moment in time when I was frustrated and angry. When things are gravy, I don’t really get that itch to write: I don’t suppose most people would feel the need to “vent” their happiness, unless it’s to the point of overwhelming joy.The fact is I don’t really care what other people think of me. Most of my audience is either anonymous or knows me well enough to see past the landscape of my blog. But in the interest of expanding the scope of my writing for writing’s sake, I think I’ll be trying to write different sorts of material.