Let us go then, you and I, on an adventure. Last week's pieces set out something of a manifesto: Here is how I have worked. Here is how I am going to work. And I'm staking my future on it.
There comes a time when all the struggle, all the self-excoriating name-calling, gets a little old.
I'm done facing the dumb momentum of the old system, pursuing what I believe to be the better idea, and then somehow calling myself a coward. I'm done downplaying my abilities as a writer, as though anyone anywhere actually benefits from me shrugging and saying, "I'm pretty good, I guess." I've put in the fucking work, thousands and thousands and thousands of hours of work--of practice--and through it I've earned the right to stand up straight, center myself, look the world in the eye, and tell it that I'm really good at what I do.
And that I've earned the right to get paid for it.
So pick up your sword and shield and join me. Together we march boldly into the future.
The Free Refills Brigade lets out a shout and marches faithfully behind you!