To Hell With It

I had another thought this morning while I was taking a shower. I had just written the previous post and was thinking about beginning to organize my thoughts for my book. That led me back to thinking about how I've gotten into many - many - discussions and arguments over the last few years over things I've written. That could be something from my blog (which I've been writing for years) or from a conversation on email or maybe one of those world famous facebook arguments that I manage to find myself involved in on more occasions than I can count. I've been told I'm inflammatory and offensive on many occasions, and for a brief stint recently, I felt a little bad about that.

A very brief stint.

I guess it occurred to me that a major part of who I am is a writer. I've been writing all of my life. Blogging is just another extension of that, but I am getting ready to move on to the next level.

That said, the reason for my brief stint of regret was because I admit I have insulted people. But that said... writers are never known for being the sorts of people who sit back and stand down from an argument, who sit back and keep their opinions to themselves, or who worry about how someone else will interpret their meanings. Writers are artists and the interpretation is half of the beauty of art. It is not nor will it ever be my problem if someone interprets my art in a negative way. It likely stems more from something within themselves than from something that truly angered them about my words.

So I will likely never stop pissing people off or, conversely, will likely never censor myself for writing what comes from my heart, soul and mind. Those who take offense - who truly take offense - can kiss my ever loving ass. :)

I'm a writer and I ain't gonna change what I write just to appease the few.