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What's that like
I wonder how others are able to manage looking back at the work they've done and consistently say they're happy with it or they're satisfied. I just don't operate that way. I see a million ways in which I could've done a little better or made it a bit more perfect. The blame is on my upbringing, probably.
I tried to revise some the other day and it went nowhere. Hours spent, attempting that. Ugh. I need to read something better. Something with prose, something pretty. I lose my feel for pretty otherwise. I'm listening to Taylor Swift's Lover over and over again like it'll help but writing the same Reds fic in my head over and over again won't mean a fucking thing if I never actually commit a thing to paper. And who wants to read that same old shit again? Save it for the money story, self. You'll run out of things to say eventually. You probably already have and are just looking for ways to dress up old dishes.
Presentation can be nice though. And the dish is solid. It's okay to like those things. It's okay to want the same things but prettier. A little different. Ugh why do I wanna write stories that make me cry, all the time. I WANNA FEEL THINGS, DAMN IT. No that's not quite it. I wanna write things that make me feel things, damn it.
It's been awhile since I vented like this, it feels like. It feels really self indulgent. I'm doing fine. Could use more down time. But couldn't I always.
I'm scared to write this Reds M fic. That's not quite right though. I'm scared to post it. Maybe it's a little of both. I have to wait until I'm angry again. That's when I did the most work on it. Ugh but I don't want to subject myself to bad takes on bad gross porn. It's too much work. Exhausting. I can't even revise right now. Which means I could probably use the break. I should write it. It would be good for me. But maybe all I really wanna do is wallow and wish I could like what I do. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.
I tried to revise some the other day and it went nowhere. Hours spent, attempting that. Ugh. I need to read something better. Something with prose, something pretty. I lose my feel for pretty otherwise. I'm listening to Taylor Swift's Lover over and over again like it'll help but writing the same Reds fic in my head over and over again won't mean a fucking thing if I never actually commit a thing to paper. And who wants to read that same old shit again? Save it for the money story, self. You'll run out of things to say eventually. You probably already have and are just looking for ways to dress up old dishes.
Presentation can be nice though. And the dish is solid. It's okay to like those things. It's okay to want the same things but prettier. A little different. Ugh why do I wanna write stories that make me cry, all the time. I WANNA FEEL THINGS, DAMN IT. No that's not quite it. I wanna write things that make me feel things, damn it.
It's been awhile since I vented like this, it feels like. It feels really self indulgent. I'm doing fine. Could use more down time. But couldn't I always.
I'm scared to write this Reds M fic. That's not quite right though. I'm scared to post it. Maybe it's a little of both. I have to wait until I'm angry again. That's when I did the most work on it. Ugh but I don't want to subject myself to bad takes on bad gross porn. It's too much work. Exhausting. I can't even revise right now. Which means I could probably use the break. I should write it. It would be good for me. But maybe all I really wanna do is wallow and wish I could like what I do. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.