As I sit here on this wicked Wednesday typing away on my Macbook, playing catch up to last weeks unmet targets — while simultaneously nursing the incessant ache of the repairing tendons in my shoulder — I feel compelled to take a break from my screenwriting duties, and partake in this rant of rants.
Who am I? Who is Ethan Michael Carter? To many of the good people on Twitter, I’m the creator of the #GuyTip and a man that tries to show other guys how to treat women.
Here, in the realms of the blogosphere and also to my coaching clients, I’m the man that provides you with some helpful insights in the area of dating and relationships, I may occasionally even pepper your brain with some wisdom on how to live a life full of passions.
To my cohorts in LA that I’ll soon be joining, I’m the screenwriter that broke into the business when he shouldn’t have. The guy you either love to love, or love to hate. Well the truth is, I’m all of those things and probably a whole lot more.
I’m someone that loves talking about relationships as much as a coke addict likes his/ her next hit. Someone that likes to say, what others only think. Someone that likes to talk and type, without a filter of any kind. I’m part lover, part fighter, and wholly rebellious. I’m loved or hated, but rarely anything in-between.
As a writer, I’ve got many interests and many voices that need expressing.
Isn’t that really what I — or any writer — is? A font of self-expression.
One that takes whats inside, and flows outward with it, like a public fountain that quenches the thirsts of those that are inlined toward that unique flavor of individual expression.
As writers we sometimes posture. We pretend that our work is a lot harder than it is.
Sure, writing is a creative art form, one that not anyone can easily do.
But, once you find your voice, the only ‘hard part,’ is having the balls to transcribe our REAL inner thoughts into the written word for all to see.
But, many of us don’t even get to find that voice. We toil in obscurity in our attempt at being writers, before we shrug our shoulders in dismay, and give up writing as a failed ‘hobby.’
The truth is, most people write for adulation, to be heralded and praised; or even worse, to be ‘liked.’
Don’t get me wrong, I know its great to receive validation. Fuck, as writers we don’t get it enough!
But, when a writer decides to write whats ‘safe,’ or what he/ she thinks will sell, they cease being a writer in its ethereal sense, and they instead become nothing more than a poor salesman; peddling potions, or literary notions, from person to person. In a society where political correctness has sanitized the voice of the individual, hearing someones real and uncensncored thoughts — has become as endangered a species as the tiger.
A good woman from LA once taught me to not write for ‘them,’ (the audience), but to write for ME. She taught me how to not overanalyze my thoughts. Taught me how to take the raw energy of my innermost thoughts, and use it as a sounding board for my soul.
It took me a while to grasp this notion, but when I did, writing was no longer a job or career; it became my avenue for expression.
See the truth is, we should only write what fires us up, and what turns us on. Anything less than this, and all we do is insult our inner voices, and drift away from the shores of integrity.
And no, I don’t subscribe to the struggling artist theory. I instead believe in the abundant artist theory (and if that isn’t a thing, it should be). Every artist should be rewarded for his/ her expression, and financially compensated for letting people hear, see, or read; their unique voice.
But the point is, when you’re not writing what truly is within you, or not talking from your unique voice; then any praise or applause you receive is nothing but a shallow pool of platitude.
Writing without heart, is like sex without connection — its nothing more than masturbating in-between someones legs.
So go find your voice. Find what gets you wet with excitement. Then go scream it from a fucking rooftop, or…even go write an article about it.
Till next time.