WHAT WOULD JOE DO?

 This is part two of my writing anxiety crisis series in my writing blog. To catch up, scroll down to my previous post. It will all make sense.

My White Wedding reduction and reconstruction is not going well. There's nothing wrong with the story, as far as I can see, but the writer is rarely the best judge of their own work. As I scrutinize scenes, storylines, and chapters, I'm at a loss on what to cut and what to keep. It's frustrating and demotivating. When that happens, I begin to hate my own work, and I must step away.

It's not a lack of desire to write. It's the reading and writing the same shit over and over. I begin to doubt myself and wonder if readers have the same experience. This is just more of the same crap, and it's getting old. Or, maybe I'm being too self-critical, always a problem for me. I am my harshest critic. Maybe there's nothing wrong. It's all in my head. I don't believe that. 

During this anxiety rewrite, I began to consider that my self-indulgence is the underlying problem in my writing. I write what interests me, as all writers do. It's possible that my venturing into rabbit holes and writing scenes for the fun of writing character dialogues and interactions may bore readers. (shrugs) I don't know.

I simply love writing scenes with characters verbally sparing. I use these scenes to advance the story, but sometimes, it's just character relationship development or reinforcement, if that makes sense. I know many of my scenes deviate from the tracks, but I get back on the rails.

My tales are not always linear. I like moving forward in the timeline, then traveling back to give you a scene that you believed I skipped over. There is a build-up and then nothing. Two chapters later, I go back and tell that story. I love foreshadowing. I will foretell an event for 50 chapters, like Jeanie moving to California. That procrastination spread over two books. I like to mess with readers.

--- WHAT WOULD JOE DO ---

What would Joe do if he had the writing anxiety I have with his music? He'd probably be dick about it, and choose a path that amuses him/ That's my plan. If you don't like it, go buy a fucking book. I'm going to play through this crisis in confidence like Joe would, with defiance, but still getting the job done.

White Wedding is not comng out next. Instead, I'm publishing my short baseball story written before Joe was a figment of my imagination. Maybe you read it on Lit. You'll get a taste of how Joe would do it and what's to come, shorter chapters and an unpredictable schedule.

Yeah, I'm the new moderator, bitches. Remember when Lit mods annoyed me by not publishing chapters? I had to resubmit after a week of no approval, and then it went straight through. I could not stay on my schedule because I had no publishing power. Wattpad gave me that.

Do you remember opening your laptop in the morning while your coffee or tea brewed, hopeful that a new chapter would drop on Literotica? You had no clue what was coming or when. Sometimes they came every other day, as I tried to do, but then the mods would throw a wrench into my plan. Days passed, no chapters, even as I submitted them.

That's the future. I'm going back, except this time I'm the dickhead moderator, keeping you guessing, hoping a new chapter appears for your morning read. I will disappoint you more than I reward you. That's what Joe would do. Joe would say this...

"If you can't give me a click on a like, a Wattpad follow, or an occasional comment, I don't owe you a goddamn thing. I give away my thousands of hours of writing, millions of words, and you can't even click on a button. Fuck you, ungrateful cunts."

Joe would then stare you down, wondering if you had anything to say. And of course, you don't. So he continues, cutting with words.

"I was raised differently from you. If someone gives me something I enjoy, I say thank you. It takes so little effort. It seems your parents raised a lazy, ill-mannered, misanthrope. To those who make that small effort of clicking buttons or even commenting, I thank you. I know who you are. The rest of you are anonymous twats."

Was that Joe talking, or me? If I offended you, fuck off, do you really think I give a shit? You're anonymous!

The baseball story will be coming this month, and there will be no schedule. Also, the emails I send announcing books, kiss those fuckers goodbye. You know where I am. If you don't care enough to check in at this blog or Wattpad, I don't give a damn if you miss out on my free shit.

Yeah, it's shit, but it's my shit, and I'm gonna have fun with it.

This message was brought to you by Don Julio tequila.