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Writing is like taking a dump. Everyone does it at some point in their life, voluntarily or not. Some people do it more than others. Some people three times a day, others do it once a week. But it happens. Shit happens.
Quality over quantity. You want to produce thick, rich stuff. Not a steady stream of sometimes slippery words; off-color, no form, messy. That’s diarrhea. Output may be voluminous or it may be pitiful but, as long as you’re gonna produce something, might as well make it worthwhile.
You only give out what you put in, right? You have to take in a lot to put out a lot. Some people consume thick, fibrous texts. Others read tweets. You can see the difference, and sometimes smell it. On the other hand, taking much in definitely induces the need to dump a similar amount. There are definitely people full of it.
There’s a time and place for everything, but not everyone knows this. When you take a dump, you have to aim. Anywhere else is unacceptable. You don’t shit all over someone’s place, or someone’s things, or even just someone. What you get from not controlling where you make your dump is a veritable shitstorm; a flurry of faeces, if you will. That’s when shit hits the fan.
