Lordy, what a relief. All those years and years of suffering off my back. —Suffering, boy I tell ya—you artists can have it. I wondered why I sucked so bad at it. Not the suffering part. I was great at that. If you could sell suffering I would have been on Easy Street. No, I just sucked at making a living at it, like most artists or crafty types.
But I got lucky. Turns out I’m one of them. And I like it. I am now the guy who used to sit on my shoulder and berate me unmercifully for not being better as I wrote. Sweet.
Not that I’m sadistic at all, or much. To me the artist (or in this case my client) is a precious jewel to be treasured and cherished and coddled. I want to be that dickhead guy I used to hate so much except good. I rip your prose to shreds in a good way, lol. I am now the Word Doctor by trade, but I don’t just love and heal words, I love people, and artists most of all. I heal words and wordsmiths both.
I just wasn’t brave enough to be one. But I am brave enough to help them. And I will try with all my heart and soul to help those mighty beings of light. Lieutenant Yourword, at your service, Cap’n.
The Word Doctor