13 Rules for Writing
Write with the TV on.
Write with the radio on.
Write with your spouse yelling at you
to get off the fucking computer and get in bed already
As an undergrad, I couldn’t sleep. I had plenty of time for it. The inconvenient drive to study for exams or complete assignments didn’t surface until… well, actually, I’m still waiting for that. I could have a good night’s sleep, saunter to class at ten am and still have time to stop by the liquor store later. But college was loud. I greatly envied my roommates who grew up in big families where there was no such thing as quiet. To this day, I have trouble sleeping with someone whispering next to me.
But I can write.
Like cafes, quiet is not the magical ingredient in the story recipe.
Just like I can write on a bus or in a kitchen or in my pajamas in bed, I can write at a concert or next to an elementary school playground at recess or in a construction zone or on the couch with Jersey Shore blaring from my roommate’s TV.
Why? Because I want to write more than I want to sleep. I want to write. More than that, I want to be a writer.
And a writer writes. No matter what.
I hope that in one hundred years somebody will remember that I wrote. Who cares if they also remember that I slept?