I almost let my passion get sucked out of me.
I never really shared my writings with other writers before.
I took a writing course in my university and thought that it would be exciting to meet fellow young writers.
In fact it was exteremely exciting that is until the critiques started.
It went from being very constructive to just down right shitting on each other.
I suppose though that my writings weren't accepted with the majority because of the nature of the content.
and add a touch of romanticism and you've got a story that no typically raised American would ever want to read.
Especially if it's a story with incest or pedophilia in a romantic twist.
The thing about it though,
The thing is, it wasn't rape.
That's what people get all huffy and puffy about. I don't like rape. I don't think anyone does but the fucking rapist. But for some reason people think pedophilia or incest and rape are one thing.
As long as the people involved are coherent and want that other person and agree to the sexual act, then who gives a shit really if it's your brother, your sister, your daughter or your mother.
Well the parent thing scares me ( my own mother gives me nightmares) but still if that's what they want to do....party on.
Yet, because of the intense backlash, I've kept my writings to myself.
However I realized after a year of not writing, that my soul was starting to rot.
I also was too afraid of ever calling myself a writer because of my shitty grammar.
My grammar is terrible.
I'm glad I joined this forum.
I don't feel like I'm wasting away anymore.
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