What if you become famous? Because if you do, things like this happen:
I used to fantasize about becoming the kind of author who ends up a classic. Wouldn’t it be awesome if my stuff became required reading? Ended up on those college reading lists? Got bought in bulk for literature classes?
Then I started taking literature classes, and had to analyze stories, and find out what the author really meant, and started hating things I’d actually quite liked on the first four readings (I mean, srsly, you can only analyze “The Tale-Tell Heart” so many times before you end up despising it like you’ve never despised anything before in your entire life). Then I decided that this sort of fame might not be so desirable after all. I think that’s when I began using abundant expletives. That way lay safety. Relative. Who the fuck knows what’s going to be acceptable in literature class twenty years from now?
So maybe it’s a little grandiose to imagine you are going to be the shit someday. Still, it’s fun to think about. Until you start thinking of all the horrible things that could happen if you become as famous as you dream of.
Like the above. Which, thinking about it, makes me think it might be a good idea to produce an annotated version of each volume, wherein it is explained, in plain English even an English teacher should understand, that “the curtains are fucking blue because I didn’t type green instead. Full stop.”
How about you lot? Do you have scars from overzealous analysis? Silly fears about fame?