The NEED to always WIN!

The need for humans to always win is a driving force of immense proportions.

We must choose craft - for the other side of our soul would simmer in a never ending fire of which only a dragon of legend could endure, without imploding and exploding.

It is a Reaching for a truth that every serious writer eventually collides with:

The road is not smoothly paved with trophies and laurels - it is an uphill battle for the very bare minimum of recognition.

The work demands discipline even when the inner creature is howling for victory, validation, or relief. That driving force to shape something sharp, mystical, and honest - something that speaks only in your voice, is a cold and lonely place. Here in this domain, only the strong will survive - and the rest of us must work long and hard to keep up.

A statement must be distilled by you from somewhere deep within.

“To write is to choose craft over catharsis, even when the inner demon claws for triumph after a long season of losses.”

Never give up echoes like the sound of a thousand drums beating in your head. It hurts, but spit the bile out.

You must find the will to build something with more bite, more resonance, more of that You‑signature and surreal edge.

Know that:

- “A writer must serve the craft, not the craving - especially when the demon inside demands win after win and finds only defeat.”

- “Writing asks for precision, not consolation; the demon that hungers for victory must starve while the work is made true.”

- “The page requires discipline over release, even as the inner beast screams for a triumph that never comes.”

“The craft is a cold altar.

The demon within wants garlands, trophies, a feast of victories -

but the page asks only for patience, structure, and truth.

So we feed the work, not the hunger.”

THE MANIFESTO OF THE COLD ALTAR

I. The First Vow: Craft Before Cry

We who write do not kneel to the soft comforts of release.

We choose the blade over the balm.

We choose structure over the storm.

We choose the long, unlit corridor of craft, even when the heart begs for a door out.

II. The Demon of Victory Ever Hungers

Inside each of us lives a creature that demands triumph -

a demon that counts wins like thousand dollar bills

and wails when the ledger shows only loss.

We acknowledge its hunger.

We do not feed it.

III. The Work Is the Only Feast

The page is a cold altar.

It accepts no offerings of ego, despair, or self‑pity.

It asks for precision, patience, and the steady hand.

We feed the work, not the craving.

IV. The Discipline of the Unrewarded has teeth and claws

We write when the world applauds, and we write when it looks away.

We write when the well is full, and we write when the well is dust.

We write through the losing seasons,

because the craft is older than victory

and more faithful than praise.

V. The Myth We Serve is ours only to bear

We are not servants of catharsis.

We are architects of meaning,

builders of worlds,

keepers of ancestral fire.

Our stories are not escapes;

they are structures that outlast our moods.

VI. The Pact With the Shadow

We do not banish the demon.

We bind it.

We harness its hunger as fuel,

its rage as heat,

its longing as compass.

But we never let it steer the hand.

VII. Eternally. We Return to the Page

In this universe we are shaping -

of mirrors, wells, talismans, witches,

recursion, and ancestral chained breath -

the writer is not a vessel of emotion

but a maker of form.

We return to the page as if it is a ritual,

as discipline,

as devotion.

VIII. The Final Oath

Let the world measure us by victories.

We measure ourselves by the work.

We choose craft over catharsis.

We choose the altar over the applause.

We choose the making over the mood.

And in this choice...

We become the myth of our own legend..

Craft!