I never believed in those who ran “writing courses” or anyone who gave me a framework for writing. There is only one way to write and that is to sit at the typewriter and bleed.
There have been so many days when I had to bang my head just to put a few sentences together.
You can feel the words and almost form them but it doesn’t translate on paper - the frustration of those moments are indescribable.
Today you no longer have to bleed. You can write a sentence and ChatGPT gives you an essay. I’m afraid the art of bleeding at the typewriter has come to an end.
I have been guilty of this too, typing half baked sentences or just words into GPT waiting for it to do the magic.
But today I wondered, what made writing beautiful to me was the pain. The hours of angst trying to put together the perfect words and sentences. Without that, I’m nothing. There is no happiness without suffering. Those words that come out of a machine have no meaning however beautiful or structured they may be.
If you didn’t write it with your blood,you didn’t write it.
Originally published on Nicheless