An influx of great literature.

Recently, I have been bombarded with a massive amount of good literature. I just finished reading Slaughterhouse Five (an anti-war book that doesn't seem like one), by Kurt Vonnegut, and am now starting on The Crucible (allegory for McCarthyism), by Arthur Miller. After finishing the former, I came to the realization. In order to become a great writer, something bad is going to have to happen to me. I have compiled a short list of scenarios:

Pick one, but not necessarily all
1. Must become addicted to opium. (E.A.P)
2. Have a mother who doesn't love me. (Freud)
3. Get accused of Communism. (Miller)
4. Have my parents die in a horrible fire.
5. Get molested as a teenager.
6. Be a schizophrenic.
7. Be forced to eat something gross by a good friend.
8. Lose all my limbs.
9. Die.
10. Write really crappy and then die.


I hope to become a great writer someday. That day is far off, it seems. Someone come and light me on fire. Please.

I worship the God that is Frank Miller.
SPARTANS! TONIGHT, WE DINE IN HELL!