Sometimes--very often of late, if I'm honest--I go through one of those why-in-the-world-do-I-think-have-what-it-t
I honestly wonder why I keep writing, why I keep playing with stories, when I obviously have some serious lacuna in my storytelling know-how. No matter how I try, how much I think I know about all the little bits that go into great stories, I still weave yarns that are lacking. I have to ask if it is sheer stupidity that keeps me butting my head against the storytelling wall. If I *know* things, why can't I *do* them? I can't even see how it will be possible to do them in another draft. It's as if something is hardwired into me that keeps me from telling a story that will move readers or hold their interest.
Part of me says I'm putting too much pressure on myself for a first draft. A bigger part of me refers the pansy part to the above statement about it not being possible to improve one of my second drafts.
Everyone has a story to tell, people are fond of saying. OK, fine, but should everyone tell a story?
That is the question.
*sigh* All right. Back the story, stupid.