Creative Manifesto Mayhem: How I Embraced My Inner Fiction Goblin
A behind-the-scenes look at what happened when I wrote my own creative manifesto—and what it revealed about writing, failure, and fiction goblins.
Last week, we talked about creating your own creative manifesto—that magical document that serves as your writerly GPS when the road gets foggy and full of plot holes. I challenged you to craft your own declaration of creative independence, and guess what?
I decided to walk the talk and create one myself.
Spoiler alert: It got gloriously, unapologetically feral.
When Your Manifesto Takes On a Life of Its Own
Writing a manifesto isn't just a fluffy self-help exercise. It’s like holding up a mirror to your creative soul and saying:
"Well hello there, you magnificent chaos gremlin."
I started with the “I write because…” exercise. What poured out wasn’t the polished, Pinterest-worthy prose I expected. Instead, I wrote:
“I write because the voices in my head won’t shut up unless I give them snappy dialogue and questionable moral arcs.”
And just like that, my manifesto swerved into territory that would make my college creative writing professor clutch her pearls—and I leaned all the way in.
Embracing Your Particular Brand of Creative Quirk
The beauty of a manifesto? It tells the truth—not the polished, performative version of your creative life, but the actual, gut-deep motivation behind why you write.
When I wrote:
“I believe humor is holy, awkwardness is power, and shadows exist to make the neon signs pop brighter,”
I wasn’t trying to sound profound. I was just finally admitting what sets my creative brain on fire.
If your manifesto doesn’t make you a little nervous to share, you might still be wearing your creative mask.
The Parts That Surprised Even Me
The biggest shocker? Redefining success.
I’ve spent years chasing external validation—lists, followers, approval emojis. But when I sat down to write what success feels like, I found this instead:
“A reader DMing me: ‘This made me feel seen, and also snort-laugh on a public bus.’”
That’s it. Not bestseller stickers. Not a Netflix deal. Just a genuine connection point—and a mild public spectacle.
My Relationship Status with Failure: “It’s Complicated”
This section felt oddly freeing to write.
Instead of pretending I’m immune to rejection or creative belly flops, I acknowledged failure as:
“My grumpy creative roommate. I let it sulk and eat my metaphorical chips… then I get back to work.”
Your manifesto should include failure, because it’s part of the process. But it shouldn’t get the final word.
The Non-Negotiables: Where It Gets Serious
These are the sacred rules of my creative kingdom.
“I will not compare my chaotic first draft to someone’s sixth novel with an audiobook deal and a personal barista.”
And my personal favorite:
“If it doesn’t light a strange little fire in my ribcage, it doesn’t go on the page.”
These are the boundaries that protect your creative spark from being flattened into something generic.
The Unexpected Power of Declaring Yourself a “Fiction Goblin”
In my closing lines, I wrote:
“I’m Angie Hartwell. I write dark humor and supernatural stories for the weirdos who feel too much and say too little. I am a creator, a chaos whisperer, a fiction goblin with a keyboard—and this manifesto is my permission slip to keep going, even when my inner critic is being a real haunted house Karen.”
Not the brand I thought I was building—but it’s the truest version of me. And that’s what a manifesto should do: strip away the polish and point you back to your real creative center.
What Your Manifesto Might Reveal About You
When you sit down and write yours, you might discover:
Your real audience isn’t who you thought it was
Bestseller dreams aren’t your deepest motivation
Your rituals matter more than productivity hacks
You’re still hiding behind expectations that don’t serve you
Let your manifesto be raw, ridiculous, poetic, profane—whatever feels true.
Your Turn: Share Your Manifesto Madness
Did you write your creative manifesto? Did it surprise you?
Drop a line in the comments about the most unexpected thing that came up when you got honest about why you write, how you define success, or what your non-negotiables are.
Bonus challenge: Share one sacred statement from your manifesto.
(Extra points if it would make your high school English teacher dramatically spit out her tea.)
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