You are not special.
You do not deserve leniency.
You are an employee of the mind. You wanted to work, well here’s your chance to work. Now work.
You are no different than the kid who flips burgers at McDonald’s.
You are the garbage man outside your house.
You are the person scraping road kill off the side of the highway.
You do not get a speed-pass to skip ahead in line. There is nothing remarkable about you that differentiates you from any other soul out there trying to make a dollar.
You are a person with a job to do. You either do your job, or you’re fired. You sit around, fucking off, complaining about your job enough, then we’ll just find someone else to do it.
You don’t feel like writing? Too bad. Do you think the waitress feels like busting her ass off, listening to your problems, only for a two dollar tip? No, but she does it anyway. Why? Because she has a job to do. She wants to get paid. Your worries are pathetic in her eyes. She doesn’t sit around and wait for something to inspire her to refill your coffee.
Every second you aren’t writing is another second you’re wasting on the clock. What are you even doing here?
You may not have a spatula or a box cutter, but you do have a pen, you do have a keyboard. Your tools may be different, but it doesn’t change the fact that your shift isn’t even close to over.
Dear writer, either piss off or do your fucking job.
