writer's advice #1

writers: linger in your work. there is no rush. there is more than enough time. you don't have to get it all out at once. or, if you do, come back to it and fill it in later. describe somebody's face every now and again. talk about the carpet stains and the ice melting in your drink. talk about the texture of the carpet stains, how if you walk across the room barefoot you might feel the stains scrape up against your calloused heel, how it is inexplicably patinated, as if it were comprised of copper, but it is now, it is only mushed ranch dressing. discuss not just the melting ice but the sweating glass that houses it, how glass must have these small holes somewhere in its substance that allows for the half-drops of seeping, frigid ice water to drizzle down its sides, to pool on your end-table, to grease your glass just enough so that it slips from your hand at the most inopportune of moments, how your fallen drink has stained the carpet, how your tongue tastes only bitters.

stop fucking rushing everything all the time. linger like you're listening in on an alien conversation. linger like a new mother. linger like you couldn't possibly describe it well enough. because you probably can't. so hang around instead.