The publishing zen-masters claim: the mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying place. Isolated, neurotic, dark, crippled by procrastination, and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing judgments. And that’s on a good day.
I write what I feel, and I’m certainly no writer. Yet, I can relate to all those characteristics on a bad day.
People write from and for different places and purposes. The zen-masters suggest one should never write from a blue place. Or, everything will end up coming from that place.
I’ve never given too many fucks about views of someone whose social status includes a word like ‘master’. Sadly, there is some veracity in this view.