LISTEN UP, YOU SLACK-JAWED WANNABE SCRIBBLERS!
Let me tell you something about your precious "craft" and why you're all circling the drain like yesterday's bourbon. I've seen what passes for writing these days - it's enough to make Hemingway crawl out of his grave and start throwing punches.
You're all sitting there, slack-faced and drooling, while your phones ping like slot machines in a Vegas whorehouse. You think you can write? YOU CAN'T EVEN READ ANYMORE! You're skimming this right now, aren't you, you bastard? STOP IT. Read every goddamn word like it's encrypted instructions to save your miserable life.
Johann Hari - decent enough fellow, probably drinks tea instead of whiskey - he's laid it out for you simpletons. TWELVE REASONS why your brain is turning into tapioca pudding. But let me break it down in terms that'll penetrate your social-media-addled skulls:
You're all hooked on the dopamine drip like rats in a cocaine study. Every notification, every like, every retweet - it's all poison, sweet poison, rotting your ability to string two coherent thoughts together. You think Faulkner wrote "The Sound and the Fury" while checking his Instagram? HELL NO!
And sleep? Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle, what's wrong with you people? You're up at 3 AM watching cat videos and wondering why your prose reads like it was written by a concussed hamster. The great writers were drunks, sure, but at least they SLEPT between benders.
You want to know what's really killing your writing? It's this pathetic belief that you can multitask. Multitasking is for short-order cooks and circus performers, not writers. When Bukowski sat down to write, he wasn't also playing Candy Crush and listening to a podcast about true crime.
And don't get me started on your diet of processed garbage and energy drinks. Your brain is starving for real nutrition while you're feeding it the equivalent of literary fast food. You think you can create art when your synapses are firing with all the precision of a drunk throwing darts?
Here's the raw, ugly truth: You're all searching for meaning in the wrong places. You scroll through social media looking for validation while your soul withers like a grape in the desert sun. You want to write something worth reading? DISCONNECT. FOCUS. SUFFER A LITTLE.
The world doesn't need another distracted hack pumping out 280-character wisdom. It needs writers who can dive deep into the abyss of human experience and come back with something real. Something that bleeds. Something that MATTERS.
So here's your prescription, you attention-deficient puppies: Turn off your phones. Buy some real books - yes, those rectangular things made of paper. Read them until your eyes hurt. Write until your hands cramp. Let your mind wander in the shower instead of listening to podcasts. Eat real food. Get some damn sleep.
And for the love of all that's holy, STOP PRETENDING YOU CAN MULTITASK. Focus on one thing - your craft - like it's the only life raft in an ocean of mediocrity.
Because that's exactly what it is.
Now get out of here and write something worth reading, you magnificent bastards. The world's drowning in content, but dying of thirst for real literature.
And remember: The only good writing is the kind that makes your soul sweat.
