/lit/ - Literature

I'll always find the anti-Megan reactions misplaced. As an artist, she attempts to structure her life and live her technique. This inevitably leads to creative nadirs, ruins, wastes, emptiness, especially and almost inevitably after fabricating something vibrant. That these energies fought for survival in the confines of Tao Lin's creative ceiling is perhaps the flagged, restrained, guarded version of Megan presented post Liveblog. Sometimes there's not tons going on. Or else the discovery of the bigger, more interesting project requires a kind of abstinence from the easier rewards. So many things sap our energies and distract us, dispirit us, deplete us. Megan is no different than any of the forelorn posters here, with the main distinction of her having published an impressive set of projects. But we're not all sufficiently different that we should be tearing down Megan of all people. She's notably non-aligned in an absurdly tribalistic era, interesting herself in her process and not the degrading vainglory eroding her peers. She presents a pretty simple roadmap for anyone interesting in being a writer, namely, write and publish, and don't wait for some brilliant momentary genius. If anything, you should be well trained writing and editing and toiling and hating your inadequacies and completely unworthy and terrible and an offense to the literate and only then might you receive that moment of insight, those emotional diodes, that particular flavor of despair. And so practiced and readied by your process you can take to the work of manifesting those moments.
When one attempts Liveblog-prescribed heroic doses of Xanax, Adderall, Opiates and assorted street drugs and homeopathy, they'll feel as a drubbed boxer after long, but there are moments of glittering peace and serenity beforehand, cognitive and psychic peaks Megan ascended religiously. The pharmacologic punches Megan endured were her soul attempting to free itself from our dystopia, to buttress her personal patterns of thought punished and preyed upon by the larger society licking its chops in particular at pretty young girls on which to sell things, a mold welcome to so many girls fortunate to share Megan's genetic lottery, but as bleak as anything else the Pyramid bleats to keep the parade circumambulating. To criticize Megan for creative sterility seems an inevitable projection of our own vacuity. I think we should instead receive Megan as a highly instructive modern muse, having made herself a vessel for the work, having completed it, and having it published, first by Amazon and then by a publisher. A more clear pathway there is not.