Cat Fight In The Kitchen-Wattpad Rant

Age Discrimination

Someone asked why I’ve been so candid lately and shared all this stuff in these rants recently. Honestly, it’s just to help people.

Since I got that letter, I’ve felt really responsible for helping people.

I’m okay with putting some secrets out there if they help people. It’s not like being bitter about them is doing any good, right?

So you can use some of the things I mention in your own story. I don’t mind. (You might just give me a heads up about the specifics so I don’t have people running to me saying you’re copying. That way I can just say, nah. It’s cool. I know about it.)

Good. Great. Glad we had this talk. Let it go. Let’s move on now.

And let’s talk about: Age Discrimination

Also, I cannot walk. And yes, it’s as painful as it sounds, so this isn’t going to make sense. I can feel it. But let’s all pretend it does.

Lately I’ve noticed a lot of people complaining about how old some of the writers on here are and I have to play devil’s advocate.

A lot of people are saying that eleven and twelve year-olds shouldn’t be allowed to read and write R-rated things, because they aren’t mature enough.

Then the eleven and twelve year-olds show their maturity and say things like “I’m only eleven, but all my friends agree I act more like a sixteen year-old”.

And it worries me that we aspire to be sixteen year-olds now. Because I know for a fact I was an idiot when I was sixteen. Hell, I’m an idiot now, can’t you tell?

But the thing is, all these people get so pissy over stereotypes and clichés, but they all fail to realize that saying you act like a sixteen year-old is a stereotype. Not all sixteen year-olds act the same.

I know some very, very immature sixteen year-olds. They still think “69” is funny (I tried to get in on finding that funny, but I don’t. Something about a face full of ass is just gross to me).

I had a group of sixteen year-old girls (and I knew they were 16, because I had to card them) come down my checkout the other day with a box of condoms. And they were laughing and giggling and legitimately screaming the whole time I was going through their basket and scanning items. They were saying things like “oh my God, I can’t believe you got them. Oh my God. Tee hee hee.”

And I thought, good goddamn. If you guys can’t be serious about these, you certainly don’t need them.

When I was sixteen, I didn’t laugh at condoms. I laughed at South Park. (I still laugh at South Park because it’s stupid, but makes some really interesting points).

But thinking about it, I was always told I was “mature” for my age just because I’m very quiet and reserved. But to me, that’s not all there is to maturity. That’s basically just a personality trait. I wasn’t “mature”. I mean…no.

What dictates being mature? Honestly? Because I wasn’t “mature”. I was a kid. I was sixteen (which is not an excuse for the stupid things I did when I was sixteen). I was a screw up. I thought I was some complex creature that no one could understand. Boy was I wrong.

But when my best friend was sixteen, he already lived on his own. He paid his own bills, he had a steady job and kept himself in school.

So what exactly does it mean when you say you’re as mature as a sixteen year old? Are you so mature that you still giggle about sex? Are you mature by having manners? Are you mature by completely supporting yourself?

Because not all sixteen year-olds are the same. My college roommate was very quiet and polite at sixteen, but very, very ignorant about the world. And all these years later she has still never had a job or had to pay her own bills.

My best friend’s dad had his first son at sixteen. He was a baby having a baby and he had to grow up pretty fast. And my best friend’s older brother turned out really well, in my opinion, so their dad was a pretty “mature” sixteen year old, I’d say.

My brother did absolutely nothing when he was sixteen. He didn’t hang out with his friends. He didn’t do extracurricular activities. He did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I’ve just given you literally six totally different examples of sixteen year olds. So, what are we saying when we claim that you have to be a certain age to write about certain topics?

What bothers me is when these young kids decide to write about things like rape, abuse, eating disorders, suicide, etc. and romanticize them because they make no effort to understand them.

But what I’ve noticed is that people of all ages are ignorant enough to romanticize and glorify instead of be honest. However, we choose to chastise the young ones because “it’s gross that eleven year olds are writing about rape”.

Did anyone read the child abuse chapter? I’m pretty sure that an eleven year-old that’s been molested could write a more honest rape scene than an eighteen year-old who’s never kissed a boy.

Why? Because the eleven year-old knows it’s not all roses and butterflies. It’s not something some silly boy with a nice ass can just fix for you.

But can an eleven year old write a convincing childbirth scene? Probably not as well as a twenty year-old with a baby.

I think it’s all about the research. (I swear to God if you accuse me of telling people to go get laid for their sex scene, you are sorely mistaken. Put words in my mouth and I will get very, very pissy).

But I don’t think we should just set ages where people can finally start writing.

It’s not about being a certain age. It’s about being convincing. It’s about being honest.

Because honestly, you can be an adult and still fuck up a scene because you know nothing about it. Because you want to make it pretty instead of true.

Quality over quantity. Have none of you ever heard of this?

It’s about the quality of the story. Of the writing. Of the characters. Of the plot.

Stop saying younger children can’t write. Stop hiding behind your age by saying “I’m only ___ years-old so be easy with critiques.”

It’s not about the number of years an author has. It’s about the quality of the story they tell.

Also, if you have nothing to say about this particular rant, maybe you could tell me something you’d like me to rant about in a later chapter. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go back to work and I’ve already put a huge dent in the list I had, so lemme know. I like lists. And I can’t walk. And that is all.