'suzy sunshine'

Betsy Lerner goes hardcore:

The bottom line is no one cares if you don’t write. No one asked you to. No one will die. There are chipmunks who work harder than you. You didn’t need to buy that Moleskin. You forgot you had one anyway. No one said: a poem please. No cried out when you sat down, mid-poem, because you couldn’t bleat another line, a lifetime ago on Minetta Lane. Do not ask what your writing can do for you. Do not got to therapy and crawl inside your inner ear. Did you ever think it was a gift from god? To stop? You won’t have to eat. You need not sing. You don’t have to be anything. When you remember those pages rocking out to sea, remember how good it felt to not reach for a simile.

Responses:

'Fuck quitting. I haven't started.'

'Thanks for pointing out that even this chipmunk is working faster than me.'

'If I didn’t write, then I couldn’t avoid writing.'

 'Wow. Suzy Sunshine’s back. So glad I stopped by. Happy effing Sunday night, everyone.'

'Well, quitting implies that I actually write. What I do is fantasize about writing. What I do is delude myself that I’m a writer. As soon as I have finished writing one stupid little thing, or even one stupid little thing that gets published in some stupid little magazine, I’m no longer a writer. You have to start all over again. it’s not a re-brith. It’s just another casualty.'

'I quit all the time. I am a major quitter. I am the queen of quitting, if there were such a thing, but I keep coming back like some sort of demented chipmunk, bashing my head against the concrete block wall over and over again.'

My favourite exchange:

'Sure, but then what would I do? I’ve got no money, interests, or social life. Maybe I could learn to knit?'
'I hear knitting’s overrated. And you have to carry yarn with you everywhere you go.'
'You’ll poke your eyes out.'