Quo vadis? and Cui bono?
Going through my backlog of old material. My God, it really is all shit.
The novel, shit. The illustrations for the novel, shit. All my artwork, everything I've ever written -- all shit, and all done by a man who deluded himself for twenty years into believing that he had talent. None of it would stand up to any really serious critique for five minutes. No merit to any of it. Jesus Christ, I never realized I was such a miserable hack.
I suppose I ought to throw it out and start over from the very beginning, but between procrastination and unknown health status I may not live to see it finished.
Frankly, if only a little criticism is all it takes to break me, I'd be better off putting down my pencil and never picking it back up, because it is CLEARLY not what I should be doing. There's no fun in it anymore, no joy, no sense of accomplishment -- not when I know how low-quality the junk I'm turning out actually is. It hasn't been fun for a long while now... but I keep going because I don't know what the fuck else I can do; I'm certainly not qualified to do anything else.
I'm fairly certain I am at a dead end here. I'm stuck. Can't go forward, can't go back.
The novel, shit. The illustrations for the novel, shit. All my artwork, everything I've ever written -- all shit, and all done by a man who deluded himself for twenty years into believing that he had talent. None of it would stand up to any really serious critique for five minutes. No merit to any of it. Jesus Christ, I never realized I was such a miserable hack.
I suppose I ought to throw it out and start over from the very beginning, but between procrastination and unknown health status I may not live to see it finished.
Frankly, if only a little criticism is all it takes to break me, I'd be better off putting down my pencil and never picking it back up, because it is CLEARLY not what I should be doing. There's no fun in it anymore, no joy, no sense of accomplishment -- not when I know how low-quality the junk I'm turning out actually is. It hasn't been fun for a long while now... but I keep going because I don't know what the fuck else I can do; I'm certainly not qualified to do anything else.
I'm fairly certain I am at a dead end here. I'm stuck. Can't go forward, can't go back.