It’s Winter. It’s Cold. Time For Some Heat.

Harlan fucking Ellison, baby!

HARLAN ELLISON MASTER OF FANTASY PART 1

HARLAN ELLISON MASTER OF FANTASY PART 2

HARLAN ELLISON MASTER OF FANTASY PART 3

Wow. Did I need that!

I’ve been sitting here, oppressed by winter, bored as hell, unable to find a drop of juice to quench my soul — and bam! There’s Unca Harlan.

And look at that. There’s the difference between a writer and someone who pushes words around on paper:

Harlan Ellison: Told he’d never be a writer. Said, Fuck that!

Octavia Butler: Told her story was boring. That didn’t stop her!

J. Michael Straczynski: Told he was writing crap. Stopped doing that!

All three said, The fucking Word is in me. I’ve got to get it out. And I’ll keep doing it until it’s out!

And in their doing, they got better. They learned. They didn’t recycle shit. They knew what to walk away from or put away or change.

And they became the writers they knew they were.

I needed that.

Thanks for the one-billionth-trillionth time, Harlan!

Explore posts in the same categories: Reference - Life, Reference - Writing, Writers - Dead, Writers - Living, Writing

One Comment on “It’s Winter. It’s Cold. Time For Some Heat.”

  1. Cliff Burns Says:

    Yup, let’s hear it for Harlan, a guy who’s made more than a few editors, publishers, agents and arseholes rue the day they ever crossed him. If more writers defended themselves and their work like Monsieur Ellison, we would have more of a voice, be paid more and have the respect of those we deal with. Rage on, Harlan…


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