ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
“You can write about everything,” I argued. She shook her head, her soft platinum blond hair swaying back and forth, but kept to its strict high ponytail.
“No you can’t,” she giggled, “some things are boring.”
She took a sip of her coffee, as I prepared my rebuttal. We were sitting in the middle of an over-crowded coffee shop, all of the other customers just like her, with random, bold hair styles and complex lattes in hand.
It had started out with my admittance to being a writer—she was cute and wanted to get coffee during our morning break, so I figured she’d like the type. But it quickly spiraled into a pathetic argument full of giggles while she didn’t listen to my more pathetic excuses.
“Maybe,” I agreed, “but then the topic just wasn’t written well enough.”
She watched me, her muddy brown eyes squinted and concentrated.
“Writing isn’t just a pre-warm up exercise of blah,” I explained, “there’s emotion thrown into every word. Every piece of literature isn’t just about the physical subject, it’s something deeper. It’s feelings, it’s passion,” I continued, starting to gesture as my voice got louder, “maybe the writer doesn’t even know how powerful what they’re writing really is. But all writing hits at least one reader in the heart, if it’s done right.” I took a deep breath, and then a sip of coffee to see if she was still paying attention; she was. Now she was leaning forward with her head in her lap, eyes still squinted and concentrated.
“So really, it’s not just that everything can be written about, it’s really that everything should be written about,” I summarized, slightly relieved I’d found a point to my rant too, “but the most important thing is that it’s written well.” I took another sip, longer this time, signaling that I was done.
“Bro, that’s deep,” said the obnoxious blond waiter as he picked up her empty mug. I just rolled my eyes as his sarcasm. He was jealous—every guy here was. Sure, the ponytail was platinum, but she looked like a wide-eyed, innocent, all-American girl.
She looked away for a minute, then turned back to look at me.
“The what do we do with all of the shitty pieces of writing?”
I laughed, almost choking on my drink and shrugged my shoulders.
“Good question,” I said, “cross our fingers and hope people don’t read them, I guess.”
She giggled at that, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as I just watched. Then we got up and I didn’t leave a tip for the sarcastic tool. I just hoped we wouldn’t be late for our next shift, but then took a deep breath as we walked back, thinking over what I’d said and my own special manuscript I’d held onto forever, laying in an ugly stalemate on my desk. But then I just brushed it all off and zipped up my jacket because it was chillier than I’d expected.
This is my PSA announcement. Instead of writing up some long-winded maybe even slightly boring rant on my blog and then posting the link, I wrote this a few days ago while I was on vacation and liked it a lot.
Here's the deal: it came out of a quote from a writer "of course I can write about anything--just give me time and coffee" and this spun out of that. I wrote literally about writing about anything.
Also, go ahead. Write your shit. But you better damn make sure it's written well or I too will start hoping no one reads it and won't tip your sorry ass.
Here's the deal: it came out of a quote from a writer "of course I can write about anything--just give me time and coffee" and this spun out of that. I wrote literally about writing about anything.
Also, go ahead. Write your shit. But you better damn make sure it's written well or I too will start hoping no one reads it and won't tip your sorry ass.
© 2014 - 2024 artlover455
Comments5
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I like this but btw,if you care,you have a few errors.
also I sent you three poems
also I sent you three poems