Writing Books, Trusting The Fuck Out Of Yourself, And The Golden Penis of Website Builders. (In Other Words, A Total Must-Read, You Guys.)

It's Friday and I have so many things to tell you! First of all, have you ever read Caitlin Moran? Because if you haven't, you need to. She's funny as fuck. And she's smart as fuck. And she's British as fuck. Annnnnnnnnd, the real reason I'm telling you this is because I met with my new UK editor (!!!) at Penguin Random House last week in London (!!!), and they publish Caitlin (!!!), and I got a free copy of her new book (!!!), and—are you ready for this total lunacy?—apparently they sold my book by calling me—again, total lunacy—the American Caitlin Moran for career and business.

And this is when we all collectively gasp and say out loud, “YEAH RIGHT.” I mean, what other logical response is there? I'm just a girl on the Internet, trying not to fuck it all up. But still, I had to tell you, even if it does sound entirely self-aggrandizing, me even mentioning it, because who else can I tell my exciting, just-leaked-pee-on-my-new-skirt moments with? (Spoiler alert: it's you. You are my person ten years and counting. Sorry for the urine smell.)

So anyway, here's a photograph of me and my UK editor, in which I am wearing a tee-shirt that makes me look like a uni-boobed house, fully knowing that tee-shirts always make me look like a uni-boobed house (Life Lesson #4395) but who could resist the message? Also: this purse is everything and yes I'm obsessed with Zadig & Voltaire.


I look cool, calm and collected but I promise you I was not. Like I said, PEE.

***

On that note, apparently I know authors now? I don't know what's going on. This must be what it's like to work at The Post Office. I feel like those people can sniff each other out a million miles away. It's like a top secret club for militant, power-trippy people with mustaches and bouffants. Do you suppose they get to mail their Christmas presents for free? Probably, those elitist shits.

In a similar vein, it's kind of like authors flock together, NOT because we are mustache-donning power-trippy people (although I am sure there are some) but because we're actually the opposite: tiny little specks of nothing hoping to vodka something we wrote matters. And that someone else might understand what that feels like, having to fill these giant shoes that you don't know if you can walk in. It's a lonely experience, writing a book—sort of like having brain cancer. OKAY, WAIT. NOT LIKE BRAIN CANCER. That is a horrible comparison and I am a horrible person. What I mean to say, though, is that it's hard to relate to normal people who are not putting themselves through this insane, masochistic activity. So we flock together like a pack of bikers (post office workers?). And then we send each other advanced copies and pray we didn't just write two-hundred pages of nonsense.

All of that was suppose to be a clever segway into telling you about a new book you need to read by someone who is a friend of mine who did NOT write nonsense, but I got carried away. I GOT CARRIED AWAY, I TELL YOU.

So next on the agenda is to tell you about that book. It's called Audience of One: Reclaiming Creativity for Its Own Sake. And the entire book centers around this idea: It's dangerous for an artist to fulfill other people's expectations. And as the creator of a platform called—ahem—The Middle Finger Project, man do I second that. A lot of what I'm writing in my own book is around trusting the fuck out of ideas, because other people have no idea what they're doing. They pretend they do. They want to make you believe that they're right. But they don't know. Nobody knows. So you gotta trust that you are strong, and you are capable, and that you can and will make good decisions for YOU—even if they differ from theirs. And so much of that speaks to this idea of an “Audience of One.” I love that. I believe that. This is how I've built what I have. Yes, by being a selfish ego-maniac who only cares about her own opinion. 😉 KIDDING. That's not what this is about. It's about having the courage to have an opinion of your own in the first place. Too many people forget to have them. They listen to everyone else's opinions about their work, their life, their worth, their role, their place, their duties, their dreams, their entire existence. I think it's ingrained in us, to want to seek approval from other people. But you've got to check those urges at the door when you sit down to create. Whatever you're making is yours. And you need to make it such.

So basically what I'm trying to say? Buy that book. And definitely buy it if you are scared of what other people will think of you.

***

God, I have so much more to tell you. This is getting long, isn't it? Good thing it's Friday. Maybe you are drunk already. Maybe you won't notice. But seriously. This needs to go in this post because THIS THING IS THE GOLDEN PENIS OF WEBSITE BUILDERS AND I HAVE FOUND IT. Maybe they can put that on their website. I'm sure it would convert.

So the other day I was working on a pet project of mine—which, for the record, does not involve dogs—and I was tooling around with all the things, as one does. I had heard about the Show It platform, but was skeptical, because it's marketed to photographers. Why it is being marketed to photographers? I don't know. Maybe they are drunk. BECAUSE THIS WEBSITE BUILDER IS THE WEBSITE BUILDER OF DREAMS AND YOU CAN LITERALLY MOVE ANYTHING YOU WANT ANYWHERE ON THE PAGE WITHOUT KNOWING CODE OR HAVING A SEIZURE AND I AM OBSESSED. You guys. Jesus is here. And he loves you. This is proof.

I don't really have anything else to say about that. That's not even an affiliate link. I'm just really jazzed by all of the possibilities for my peeps out there who are just getting started and don't have all that cheddar to plop down on a site but also don't want to look like a schizophrenic three-year-old made it. I'm pretty sure this solves all of your problems. Forever. Maybe. We'll see. Let's keep each other posted.

***

Alright. I should probably go now. I'm sorry I didn't save you any money on your car insurance. But I do have a book to write, and coffee to drink. Forget how many licks does it take to get to the center of a lollipop: I'm more interested in the number of times I get up and down to refill my mug. It's an insane number, you guys. Maybe this means I should make jumbo mugs and put them into our brand-new shop—which is coming! It's coming! But I'm not going to talk about that now. Too much talking. But jumbo mugs. Like, the biggest mugs anyone has ever seen. And maybe I will write “fuck” on it. Who am I kidding, I'll definitely write “fuck” on it. To the guy on Twitter who said I had gone soft because I wasn't swearing as much as I used to? HAHA JOKES ON YOU.

Never doubt a girl who grew up army-crawling underneath a Winnebago to heat up the pipes before school.

On that note, I love you, I'm excited for you, and I'm excited for US. Much more to come! Let's do this thing, team!

Eyeliner, grace and balls,

Ash

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