Are we still on the two sisters idea?
Okay. What else you got?
You have something, what is it?
I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.
You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.
I know. I'm scared.
Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?
You seem real.
And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.
Shall we go over the rules?
Don't write clichéd phrases.
Do you know what that entails?
No. I don't really like how writing has rules. Grammar I can understand, it helps the reader along. But everything else just kills the enjoyment and fun of writing. I'm too scared to write.
Describe me something.
There's a white Kleenex on the floor, with a wasp underneath it. We squashed it with a shoe earlier, but it was still twitching, so someone threw a Kleenex over it. I'm wondering right now if the wasp is suffocating underneath it. It's a very stark white against the ugly carpet, which is generic in that there's a million colors inside- blue and orange and yellow and brown and grey- but it's all just ugly.
Did I do a good job?
I cant tell you that.
Then who will?
Maybe no one. Would you ever trust anyone's opinion?
You're me. You'll sugar coat the truth and love it. I don't want to hear.
I hate your work, hate it with every fiber of my being. I want to claw it up
and rip it down and fix the world so that you don't ever have to try to write again.
That bad, huh?
Don't use platitudes, you sound idiotic. I can always tell that you're writing for them and not you when you say dumb shit like that.
So who am I supposed to ask?
You should figure it out for yourself. You have to be confident in something, or you'll never prosper. Or be happy. I want you to be happy.
Of course you do. You're me. I want to be happy more than anything.
I think you should ask yourself a question.
What's the question.
What's stopping you?