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2004-11-15 9:12 PM
Just because I felt like repeating it
Self-publishing doesn't make you anything special. For Christ's sake, boy, I could be self-published, if I chose to...and I don't even consider myself a writer. I dabble occasionally. Usually in poetry. I could be self-published by tomorrow. And even though it would probably be shit, it would be better shit than the shit you put out there. Oh, and also, my cover would look a thousand times better. Not only because I have an eye for beauty, but also because I'm capable of creating it. Then again, my five year old niece could create something more suitable for a book cover than what you've got going on over there.
When are you going to learn that your little excursion with lulu.com doesn't matter, and will never matter? Same goes for that other completely unprofessional piece of garbage your name is in.
You're nothing, Nick. Never have been. Never will be.
And you know how you think in your delusional little mind that you'll outsell Janrae, Elizabeth, Brian, and everyone else? News for you, little one. I'd outsell you. I can promise that. Why? Simple. 1) I'm a better writer (even if we are just talking poetry. Really. Have you read the shit you spew?). 2) Even in the self-published, non-advertised, garbage world you think you're special in, I could sell more. I have more friends...and people who actually ENJOY my occasional jaunt into poetry. And...I have a larger family, and we all know that the only people bound to buy your little books are your family and possible a couple of the little thirteen year old boys you've managed to charm. So, instead of selling three little books, like you're bound to do, I could sell thirty.
My point is...Although I'm not a writer, I could outsell you. So, how on earth could you ever even hope or dream to outsell, or even just outwrite actual writers? Actual professional, GOOD writers?
You couldn't. You're delusional and stupid.
Must be the lack of sunlight. Living in a basement, glued to a computer chair can't be good for your brain...or your complexion, you pasty, smelly bitch.
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