Late Night Thoughts – Part One: The Art of Words & Life As An Artist.

From The Desk of Maverick Brenton
Location: The City of Lights


I get it, every time I am inside cities. Whilst deep in their busy hearts – something magical stirs, deep in my own heart.

It comes over me – calling to me quietly. And softly. Begging me to sit before my keyboard and write – to let out what is bubbling away within my soul.

Especially so, during the night. When all the lights of the city are glowing with energy – illuminating this fascinating world around me.

A world that carries away my mind in the wind and takes me to other worlds.

Worlds I’ve never seen.

Like the most compelling speaker – this desire to write, and to create my valuable work, just bursts forth from deep within my being. Forcing me to do what needs to be done – and leaving me no choice, but to honour this mysterious call.

If I don’t honour it – I grow restless.

I feel as though I have left something very important, unsaid, and undone.

And I don’t like that feeling – the feeling that something has just died inside me.

Writing has always been a part of me. It’s not something I found – it’s something I was simply born with, and born doing. It belongs to me, as much as my own beating heart – it’s an inseparable part of my character and my purpose.

Without my words, I would no longer be me.

The mysterious call I speak of comes forth from within no matter where I am, or what I am doing – but being in the city, makes it come out more so.

Maybe it’s all the life, around me.

Maybe it’s me feeling, what everyone else can feel.

That’s my gift, and my curse.

Growing up – all I ever did was write. All the time. I created stories of adventure. I produced poetry for my mother. And I emptied my imagination, onto countless sheets of paper.

Nobody taught me how to do it.

I could just do it.

Through a gentle kiss, between the tip of my pencil and my paper – I gave birth to everything that I could find, hidden away inside my wild and curious imagination.

I lived in a world that had no limits. A world where anything and everything was possible. And a world where the ceiling of accomplishment was determined by nothing more than the extent that I could push my creativity.

That’s the beauty of writing. And the beauty of all art. It’s what all artists feel, when they sit down to do what they were born to do – it’s feeling, in that moment when they begin their work, that in the magical and mysterious moments to come, absolutely anything is possible, and absolutely anything could come forth from within.

It’s that feeling I loved when I was a small boy – and it’s that feeling I went without, for many long years.

You see.

Even though I was born with the ability to write. And even though I loved it more than anything in the world as a small child – I gave it up for a long time.

I did what I was told to do, instead.

A few smart people, whose minds were free of dogma, pointed out the gift I had.

And they made me promise that I would always write my stories.

So, I promised – but then I broke the promise.

Instead of doing what the gods put me on earth to do – would you like to know what I did instead?

Everything else. That’s what.

I did everything, except the one thing I was already good at and the one thing that brought me more joy than anything else in the world.

So after school, aka compulsory brainwashing – I headed out into the world, to find out what the fuck I was doing on planet earth.

I knew there was something – I could always feel it beneath the surface of my skin.

There was always a voice, inside me.

A voice of some mysterious origin.

A voice I could never understand – for it spoke in a language, I had not yet learnt.

It was this voice that first pulled me away from my comfortable little life in the countryside, and pulled me into the wild world, where I learnt about real life, real fast.

I used to tell my girlfriends, about the voice.

I told them I was destined for something- but I just didn’t know, what it was.

I told them that even when I was a little boy, I would gaze into the night sky wondering, what my purpose was.

They all told me I was crazy, as they went about their normal lives, except for one of them.

She understood, the voice – for she had her own.

And she was an Artist, just like I didn’t know I was.

So for many long and tiring years – I searched.

I chased the things we are told, we are supposed to chase.

I went after what we are told we are supposed to go after.

But, it never felt right.

And, it never worked out, either.

I would get fired. I would quit. I would trip up. I would fuck myself over.

And all of the above, occurred for the following reason:

The actions I consciously took in my day to day life – did not match up and move me towards what I wanted deep in my subconscious. So, there was always friction, instead of fire. And I was always swimming against the current, instead of with it.

You should think about the above carefully. It’s very important. And it took me a lot of bullshit to work it out.

So, if you can, save yourself the bullshit and just figure out what you really want, by carefully analysing what you think and do, on a daily basis.

Then live your life in a way that moves you towards what you actually want, instead of what you think you want – which is most likely the product of another person’s thinking.

That’s how you stop fucking yourself over.

You do what you want instead of what you don’t want.

And when what you consciously do, matches what you subconsciously want – good things begin to manifest in your world.

For example:

If you want A, but you chase B, you will move towards B, instead of A, and you will fuck yourself over, because you don’t want A – you want B.


If you chase A, and keep chasing A, and only A – you will move towards A, and you will eventually get A because it is what you really want.

Make sense?

Before I transcended.

And before I become who I always was – I never did that.

Instead, I did what normal people do.

I did work that I did not want to do. And I become who I was not.

It took continual failure. Disappointment. Misery. Depression. Anxiety. Suicidal thoughts. And the most relentless frustration, for me to finally take a step back, and consider that I could quite possibly be doing the wrong shit.

And I was.

Which I can see now.

But back then, when I lived in the world of slaves, and before I transcended – I was completely blind to the most obvious truth about myself.

I’m an Artist. And words are my art.

I was never a worker bee. I was never a slave. I was never able to fit in.

I’ve always despised authority.

And I don’t like rules made by people who I have never met – I prefer my own.

They suit me much more.

Some people, the normal ones, don’t like that about me – it really bothers them.

And plenty of folks have told me I have issues.

But all of them were slaves, owned by other human beings – so I never gave a fuck about what they had to say.

That’s rule #1:

Only give a fuck about the opinions of the people who have what you want.

These days – I know very clearly what is important to me.

And I know exactly what I want:

The freedom to create my work, change your life, and live my own – exactly how I want to live it. With my rules, my terms and no slave-minded motherfuckers telling me what job I should work.

I’m not lost anymore. I found my way out of the darkness. I found the light.

All I care about is writing, being free of a job and owning my time.

How did I figure this out?

Well, I did the one thing I always wanted to do, but never did, due to my need to please other people, and live my life on their terms.

I burned their terms to the ground and pissed on the ashes – then I became free to live my life exactly how I wanted to live the damn thing.

Before I found the balls to do that, though – I absolutely hated my life, even though I looked myself in the mirror every morning and told myself I didn’t.

Lies. Lies. Lies.  

Instead of spending all my time doing what I was born to do – I used to spend all my time doing what I hated. I spent my time with people I had nothing in common with.

And I did work that I had zero interest in.

I did it because I could not let go of an image that I created in my mind. An image of a person that I thought I wanted to become. A person who was the opposite of who I really was.

But now things are different.

Everything I do these days, moves me closer to what I already am and what I have always wanted – it’s aligned with what I want deep down. Every action I take, brings me closer to the future I want.


Everything I now do is incredibly easy, and it makes me feel good – because everything I now do serves the purpose of manifesting what I actually want.

What I am working towards is what I want.

It’s not what anyone else wants.

And after seeing the light – I give zero fucks about what other people want for me. I just don’t care, anymore. Used to. But not anymore.

This is my life.

I will live it exactly how I want to live it.

And now, unlike my former self – I listen to a single master: my own intuition.

The result of listening to my intuition is happiness. I live my life as an Artist. And I’m always excited to do my work – the work of writing words that inspire change in the lives of those who need change. The work that brings out the rebel within all of us – and the work that gives you a good kick in the ass when you need it.

So, before I sign off – I want you to understand something.

My struggles are not unique. And they’re not special. They are the struggles of every man and woman as they go through life – searching for something they cannot understand, define or clearly see.

They are your struggles.

And these struggles exist because we don’t trust ourselves.

We let others think and decide for us.

Until Next Time.

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