Dzmitry H.

"I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And I was really, I was alive." The words Breaking Bad's Walter White finally said to his wife about him making meth would describe my passion of writing as well. I'm fond of writing something from my childhood. I could have definitely become a writer, if I had not been told by Ken Kesey: "Don't try to be a writer, man." It was shortly before his death. I was young and I bombarded him with letters trying to make him explain why the hell they have left Star Naked out of the bus, all alone, going nuts. (It was in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, nonfiction book portraying Ken Kesey and his band of Merry Pranksters, who traveled across the country in an "acid" bus.) I reminded him that R.P. McMurphy, the fictional character he created, died for the people like her. I thought that a writer would associate himself with his protagonist and behave like him. Ken Kesey didn't like the idea. He got raving mad at me first. And then died.