Everybody says stuff to unpublished writers, unsigned musicians, independent filmakers, etc, like “Well this is how you’re supposed to do this, and this is supposed to be like that, and not like this, or it’s not that, blah blah blah,” perpetually and publicly preaching the proliferation of their pretentious pontifications from pedestals of pomposity as if their opinions were carved into stone tablets with fire and hand-delivered to them by Moses.
Nah, I’m good. You’re the same kind of “experts” who pressured George Lucas into giving Star Wars a disco soundtrack. You’re the people who make everything suck: uncreative people telling creative people how to create.
It’s a joint effort, though–the creative people believe them and do as they say. And that’s fine with me. Less competition. You be a “Who???” on the discount paperback racks at Half Price Books. I’m trying to be Mark Twain.
Check out my new book Effugium. It’s the Sex Pistols to your Emerson, Lake and Palmer. It’s the 2pac to your MC Hammer. It’s the Orson Welles to your Michael Bay.