Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Greetings, my fellow literary pariahs. How goes it? Be fooled not, by the title, (even though that was kind of the intent), I’m not going to challenge you to anything-

*waits for you to turn around*

*unsheathes sword*

*watches you gaze back*

“Well, this is awkward.”

-Rather than engaging in an eternal battle with one another, how’s about we chat about some writer stuff, (and then #SamuraiSmackdown?).

Challenged, (otherwise known as- well…pretty much the world right now.  #JesusTakeTheWheel).

So for those of you, who didn’t get a chance to read my post from yesterday- I’ve been in a bit of a productive slump. The ideas are there, but the motivation just doesn’t seem to be willing, (as opposed to my #Let’sRunToAlaska and #B*tchSlapAPolarBear ambitions, which appear to be stronger than ever).

Despite some helpful advice, (#ThankYouEntry283{Insert Other NumbersHere}), the demons of Dante’s creative hell are still upon me. With that, I’ve decided to go rogue. Which means—

*takes off pants*

*stands on rooftop*

*Scarface voice*

“YOU WANNA’ PLAY ROUGH! OKAY, LET’S PLAY ROUGH!” – I’m doing contests.

For those of you, who don’t know, the internet is essentially a bevy of opportunity to writer’s of fame, fortune, misery, and reclusion, (though mostly the last two).

Because of this, there tend to be literally hundreds of contests, small presses, literary groups, forums, (donkey shows?), etc – that act as outlets for the author at large, or simply in need of some temporary kicking in the family jewels, (or ovum #UseWhereApplicable).

So, to ensure that there’s no stoppage in my production of fiction, (fictional productivity), I’ve taken it amongst myself, to swim in the sewers of the internet, (#NotLikeThat), for a while, in search of a prompt, (or lover?), or restriction, that keeps the incipient dragon of writer’s block off of my, (#SeatFlattened), behind.

*watches you unsheath your sword*

*hears you yell*

“Hey, buddy, where the hell is the friggin’ writing advice?!”

….Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.

In times of creative drought, the writer can get restless, irritable, and discontent – with their perceived stalling of productivity. However, in my experience, times such as this one are precursors to the subconscious’s fleshing out, (#Giggity),  of a deeper, and more complex story to tell.

In my particular case, it just may be the next novel idea, that I’ve been rain-dancing for, for the past few weeks, (during the interim of my fast-food binging and sloshing around in these now wet pajama pants #BrokenVisual).

But, on a serious note.

*Sometimes, the only answer is to work through your creative rut. The one thing worse than having a hard time creating -is not creating at all. Stay focused. Stay Hopeful. Keep Working.*

Alright gang, that’s about all the slop that I’ve got left in today’s literary trough, (also, I don’t know why I’m obsessed with all the gross visuals today. #SecretFetish #50ShadesOfGross).

In any case, I’ll see you all tomorrow for more jumbled letters, that we’ve decided, make sounds.

Show Tuesday Who’s Boss,

-Antwan Crump.

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