Q: What advice would you offer the aspiring writers out there?
CRK: What are they aspiring to, exactly?
Q: To become published writers, of course.
CRK: Why the holy glowing hell would they ever want to do a thing like that?
Q: Will you just answer the question, please?
CRK: My advice? Okay. My advice is don't ever be so stupid as to get your writing — which I assume you love — all tangled up in the matter of making a living, with matters of finance and the slog for money, because you will surely grow to hate every single goddamn consonant and vowel. Asking your writing to be your breadwinner is like asking your pet platypus to become a prostitute to pay for your crack habit. I mean, who wants to screw a platypus more than once? In the end, you have a cranky, disillusioned pet for whom you have lost all respect, an ailing bank account, a notable lack of crack, and a lot of people walking about wondering why they ever thought sex with a platypus was a good idea in the first place.
Q: Well, aren't you the little ray of sunshine.
I try. I try with all my might.
And speaking of cheap monotreme whores, there's just under twelve hours remaining in the Amazing $5 Silk Sale. Buy a copy. Look at the other auctions, please and thank you. Help keep my platypus off the streets.
Oh, someone on the phorum wanted to see the coloured monster doodles. Here's a couple (though the photos are a little blurry; sorry 'bout that):
Okay. Time to rouse the platypus.