Keep Writing


Let’s switch things up.

So I think you’re a bunch of puppets. So what.

Without you puppets, there’d be no show, and I’d serve no purpose. Without serving the beam, without the Crimson King…

I value you puppets. I respect some of you, but I honor the nature of all puppets.

Besides, we all have some form of strings attached; we all serve a master whether we like it or not.

Keep writing. Some of the best advice I’ve received from others online. What’s funny as fuck to me is it doesn’t matter what I write. That doesn’t matter at all. The only thing that matters is writing. If I write, that’s what matters most.

I wish for this and that. So what. What’s real? What’s reality about?

For example, I wish my friend Lisa would visit this site more often. I wish she would read my stuff, more. I wish we would chat about the stuff I write. Really, though-Phil? Be honest. Okay, I will. I respect Lisa, I honor her free will. Lisa is free to come and go as she pleases. I say that and I mean it, because that’s what matters most to me- I respect her, and I honor her free will. She can do whatever the hell she wants, and I’ll still love her. I don’t ever have to see her in the flesh. Her voice is singular, and she does matter to me. Even from a distance. I guess by love I mean to say I care about her. By allowing her, and everyone else to do what they want- I feel that’s the right thing to do.

Fuck my wishes. What I wish for has never been as good as I’d imagined once it happens. It fails to meet what I expected things to be like when x, y, and z happened. Fuck x, y, and z- all three of you, fuck off. Here’s why: without expectations, I won’t be let down.

With gratitude, I can feel humbled and content. It’s funny, I used to get four to five visitors every day. I thought that was chump change. Haha, see? Now I regret thinking that, that was a stupid way to look at my readers.

So now, if it is Stephanie, I’m grateful she’s reading. I also love you, Stephanie, which is to say I care about you. I also allow you to be who you chose to be, because I know you’re doing your best to be someone who gets along, and enjoys the company of others from time to time.

I wished, but really I wanted to control others. I wanted them to do what I thought would make me feel worthy, and, basically, like a successful person. Now I see that too was a stupid way to approach others.

I re-define what success means to me. I will succeed on any given day by reading and writing. It’s that basic, so simple. If I read, success. If I write, success. Doesn’t matter how much I write, that’s an unwise outlook for me. So long as I write even a sentence, I’ve succeeded that day. Even if I only read three pages, again- success for me.

I feel like a major winner, so long as I read and write each day. Some days, like today, I’m on fire for the written word. Tomorrow I might wake up and write a short paragraph. I will feel myself winning the same with the short paragraph as I do when I write over a thousand words. Word count doesn’t matter.

People matter. Sorry, I meant to say puppets.

Ask yourself, do I really think all of you are puppets? Do you truly believe I think I’m some sort of puppet master? Something to consider- don’t put too much stock into what I write. These posts, they are just made of words. Of course, words are powerful, no doubt they absolutely are.

Try to discern when I’m speaking from a fictional place, when I’m speaking true to my nature, and when I’m speaking out of my asshole. I speak in many ways when I write. Because at this point, I’m not a professional writer. I’m not getting paid to produce a specific kind of manuscript for my publisher. I’m not even to the point right now where I should be sending out manuscripts to agents, or scouts- whatever the hell their title is in the publishing industry. So I’m not tripping out about anything I write.

Right now, I write because this is me practicing. This is practice. This is me pumping iron in the gym. I’m not in the competition about to go on stage and flex my best flexes in an attempt to win. Right now I’m focused on form, breathing, fine tuning the muscle memory so that the exercise almost seems effortless. I want to be a word writing rat, ya know- like a gym rat. Like, I’m the rat who lives in the gym, pesky little bugger I am, I just won’t leave.

In regards to writers on social media. Maybe I haven’t earned it yet, in fact- damn right I haven’t earned it. What do I have to show to prove my worth? Well, I’ve got one short book available for purchase on Amazon. And I have this website.

Let’s once again be real. That’s not much at all. I’m now embarrassed for acting like I deserved to be recognized. In fact, recognition isn’t something to bank on. Nothing in this life is guaranteed. There’s not guarantee that when I write x amount of books, I’ve have made it, and oh so many people will love, respect, and adore me for what I create with words. Nope. It doesn’t work like that, for any of us. I’m damn well sure none of us know how to become viral, or famous on some level.

I know for a fact I’ve done the opposite of all the things any of us can do to help improve our odds at obtaining a certain level of success in the public eye. Things such as being kind to others always, reading and praising other authors books, engaging with other people based on what they say. These are just a few things any of us can freely do to make our odds for success more possible than otherwise. Even so, there are authors who’ve done all three of these things, always, who still aren’t as popular as so and so. And they’ve written just as much as so and so, in some cases have written way more than so and so. The world doesn’t care about that. Life is unfair. It just is, most often unfair. So what. Can’t change that. I have no control over life. I can do my best by reading and writing. Doesn’t matter what I read or what I write. Just do it. Stay busy with either of those activities.

When I’m busy, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Well, at least I’m not dwelling on how shitty it is that such and such won’t notice me, or, why hasn’t what’s his face said anything in response to what I said. None of that should matter, anyway. I won’t be disappointed if I’m not on social media. It’ll become a non-issue. That’s perfect in the sense that I’m better off staying off social media. Not sure why it took me so damn long to realize social media isn’t a positive place for me to exist, but I’m glad I did realize as much.

It’s kind of depressing, because maybe you’ve written something to me on Twitter. It’s sad because I’ll never know what you said. Sad as well because it really doesn’t matter what you have to say to me. I don’t really listen well to other people anyhow, so fuck it. Mine as well be real as fuck, and honest, and abide by what works for me, and what doesn’t. What doesn’t work for me doesn’t matter. It’s not that you don’t matter, you do. You just don’t matter in regards to me succeeding. Nothing you say will motivate me to put my ass in the chair to write. I know this much because my entire life, my family has been trying to tell me right from wrong, trying to tell me things so as to help me avoid making painful choices.

I’m only now starting to listen to my family and friends. Even then, sometimes I still do what I want to do. Doing what I want to do usually ends up harming more than it helps. I can’t trust myself, is what I’m saying. The only times I trust myself is when I’m reading or writing, or spending time with my dogs. I can do those things well. Now, when I social media, I always end up screwing the pooch. And yes, those tweets, that’s me writing. But writing because of social media.

I don’t write on my website because of social media. This is my safe place. You don’t have to be subjected to anything I write on this website, because you have to click the link on my Twitter account in order to read. Versus, if I fling shit in a tweet, and by random chance that shit tweet hits you, well- that’s why I’m off Twitter. I can’t trust myself when I write stuff while on social media. Weird how that works, but I’m not questioning it. It just doesn’t work. That’s why I won’t write stuff while on social media. No more tweets from Phil. I know, I know, but it’s the only way for me. Perhaps you’ll thank me in the future, because without me on social media, social media seemed not as bad.

Aron B sure as shit didn’t write no twenty some fucking books from 2019-2022. You know what that means, right? Aron B has been writing and producing polished manuscripts for a lot longer than just 2019. I don’t know for how long, but damn well a long fucking time. This also means Aron B was nowhere near as popular as he is now, probably before releasing THE SLOB. I believe that was the book that went viral, elevating Aron to heights he’d only ever dreamed about. That’s pretty cool, I gotta say. What’s also really cool about this is, once people went ape shit for THE SLOB, well, guess what? These people HAD to have and read more Aron B! Gimme all the Aron B there is, I want it all, ahhhh! Yeah, I was one of those people for an entire year. The cool part about that is, Aron was prepared. He had been publishing books for a long enough amount of time, that when people needed to buy and read more of Aron’s work, he had a gaggle of titles to choose from. And the rest is history, he’s now a full time Independent author. This means writing and publishing books is his only job. He no longer has to work the shitty ass day job most of us are forced to work, again- whether we like it or not. Aron says as much that he HATED his day job. He contemplated suicide because of it’s toll on him, if I’m not mistaken. Then THE SLOB, and it all changed soon there after. That makes me happy for Aron, because I wouldn’t wish depression upon my worst mortal enemy. Depression is so awful, it literally crushes and torments the soul and the mind. I’m glad Aron made it. I’m happy that he doesn’t have to work that dumbass day job that was slowly snuffing out his will and desire to live. I doubt Aron has been healed completely, I’m also damn well sure suicide never goes away once it’s there. Plus I have to believe Aron is also a haunted individual, for whatever reason. The reasons are legit and valid, I have no doubt about that. But, I do think he’s in a much better place mentally and energy wise than he was before going viral.

I have no clue what this post was about. I’ve written so goddamn much in this post that I’m now not even sure what the hell I’m writing about.

So, yeah. See ya next post.


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