Dear Future Self,
Write like a motherfucker.
Cheryl Strayed said that in a Dear
Sugar column to a woe-begone writer,
and the minute I read it, I swore that’s
exactly what would be done with my life. So
you better be focused on that shit, do you hear?
I’ve already done the hard parts:
studying, reading, reciting, pacing.
I sat up all those nights with a pen in one
hand & a cigarette in the other, writing down names
and notes that would become Holly, Grace, Carrie, Katelyn,
Max, and Glitch. All you have to do is finish. Get to The End.
I’ve done the worrying, survived insomnia,
inadequacies, the fear & feeling stupid/weak/
confused/blocked/rejected. It was me who traipsed
through Oklahoma weeds to capture that cover art, me who
opened up a vein to bleed out memories for Ramshackle Houses,
And then edited it four fucking times. Book One, complete, you’re welcome.
You better be at it. Walk a mile each day, drink
plenty of water, stay away from the oxy, and write like
a motherfucker. Read everything, but don’t fall into the trap
of comparing yourself to anyone else. You can only be you. I mean
me, and I’ve already done worst of it—the planning, building the
routine from the floor up. I already covered procrastinating like a mother-fucker, so that’s one less thing on your To Do List. Don’t wait. Just #gowrite.