“They cry, “But I WANT to be a writer!” And my head hangs. You are asking to be shot square in the head. You know not what you seek. You ask for bleeding brains and carnage that stains your pillowcase. You ask for jelly in the place of the cartilage in your spine. You ask for kindness that is never returned. You wish to burn alive in the flame of a love unrequited. It’s simple. Write.”
