Stupid Brain.

I've reached that horrible point in the novel where I'm pretty sure it all sucks.

I have this irrational urge to delete everything I've ever written and get a job asking people if they'd like fries with their order.

I fear that if I finish this train wreck of a novel and hand it off to my readers, they will look at me sadly and say, "It's nice," and what they will really mean to say is: "This is the most horrible piece of twaddle I've ever had the misfortune to encounter, and I lament the hours wasted reading it, and in fact, I'm afraid I'm going to have to re-think our friendship."

I know that this too shall pass, but it makes it hard for me get any work done.

Stupid Brain.

I've reached that horrible point in the novel where I'm pretty sure it all sucks.

I have this irrational urge to delete everything I've ever written and get a job asking people if they'd like fries with their order.

I fear that if I finish this train wreck of a novel and hand it off to my readers, they will look at me sadly and say, "It's nice," and what they will really mean to say is: "This is the most horrible piece of twaddle I've ever had the misfortune to encounter, and I lament the hours wasted reading it, and in fact, I'm afraid I'm going to have to re-think our friendship."

I know that this too shall pass, but it makes it hard for me get any work done.