Safe writers write booklets, pamphlets, and all sorts of boring things.

Don’t be safe. Safe is not for writers. Not for anyone who is serious about their endeavours.

Safe writers are miserable writers. The muse doesn’t visit, because she doesn’t care for your pitiful safety.

They people please the client then go home, sit like empty potatoes and drink cheap burbon because they think this is what a writer should look like.

Not you.

Write. Write until you no longer care for your crappy job that is leading you nowhere; until writing becomes what you do.

Drink coffee at 10 p.m. Wake up at midnight. Write until the break of dawn.

Write short stories; write poems; write scripts; write novels; write plays.

Get them out. Get it all out to anyone who will read them. Get it all out even if no one ever reads them.

Write so prolifically that you don’t bother reading the rejection notice.

Write. Write. Write.

Real writers spend their time refining their writing.

They don’t care about safety. They throw themselves at sea.

They crave danger, the unknown, the wicked tide.

So, if safety is what you want, don’t write.

Love, R. ♡