My prose is awful, my technique is awful, every idea I've ever had is awful and not worth the time I wasted thinking about it. Everyone else is much, much, much better than I can ever hope to be. I have no idea why I waste my time attempting, because the last hundred sentences I wrote are terrible. Most of all, this particular story is terrible. I should stick with writing software, at which I am mediocre, but at least they pay me a hell of a lot of money to be mediocre. And thousands upon thousands of people actually use that software, unlike these stories which are read by about twelve people at most. Which, since they are terrible, ought to be a consolation, but somehow it's not.

This has been a regularly scheduled fit of depressive writerly neurosis. Normal programming should resume shortly.

Edit: Dammit. This was supposed to make me laugh at myself. Not working yet. Must stomp off into a corner and catastrophize some more.
  • Current Music: The Chemical Brothers : The Sunshine Underground : Surrender

Sometimes you have to write the crap to get to the good stuff. Any attempt is worth writing even if you never do anything with it. If I had thought like that neither the Core Four or its sequel ever would have seen the light of day.

If you want to send it my way, I'd be more than willing to look at it, give you suggestions, hints anything, because Lord knows you've done plenty of that for me.

And even if your stories are only read by us twelve, know that we are the twelve most devoted people you will ever meet.