Someone online posted on Mastodon: art is like farts, if you try too to force it out, it becomes shit. And that is the most accurate way to describe what has been happening with my writing. I will offer a counter, however. Shit has its value, it is what fertilizes plants in the field and lush green crops can arise from it. Far itself stinks up the room, so there it'll be quite obvious, but it'll dissipate in the air soon enough, without adding much value to anybody's life. I'd rather my art be shit than farts.
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