Sometimes. Writing. Sometimes.

Me: Grammar is like math. I understand grammar. It’s like…when you approach a story and say to yourself, “Okay then, what am I trying to convey with this shit?” Because I don’t fucking know. I wrote this thing, and here it is. Convey away.
Arsenic:: Well, except, I write stories all the time where like, I’m trying to convey something. and then people see something completely different in it that works for them, and I’m like, “awesome.” It doesn’t really matter that that wasn’t my intent. Why does it matter what’s conveyed?
Me: I guess, so that the story has a point. Like, did Hemingway ever worry about this shit? No, he fucking drank gin and punched cows in the face. Someone get me a bull to punch in the face.

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About Amanda Ching

I write. Fo' you.
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One Response to Sometimes. Writing. Sometimes.

  1. Pingback: Not Really Weekly Linkroll | M. Fenn

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