It's one of those days where I hate my writing. Hate it! And I don't need feedback or reassurance--what I'm feeling is the frustrating kind of dissatisfaction that has nothing to do with feedback. It's when you read other people's writing and are just blown away, and envious, because everything they do brilliantly is exactly what seems to be missing in your own writing--for example, the gift of rushing spontaneity that rips up layer after layer of raw, real emotion in a reader--and you don't know how to get it. And then you see two or three of your stories mentioned by people, and each time you click and start rereading your old stuff, looking for that jolt of satisfaction, where your eyes will slide down the page and you say to yourself, "Ah, yes, they still like this one, and justifiably so..." And instead you reread and are like, "Arghhhhhh! WTF was I thinking, punctuating like that?! Ohmygod it's all so redundant! And stilted! And pitiful! And that, that doesn't sound like Spike *at all*. My god, I suck rotten eggs. I need to revise *everything*. I need to revise *every story I've ever written* and I need to do it *right* *now* before anyone else reads another word!"
So I'm going to go watch Angel. Joss will comfort me. Yes yes yes.