Hatred and the Writer

Holy fuck, I hate my writing. I stare at it. It stares back. You know it’s a bad day when your manuscript starts staring back at you. Self-satisfied jerk. A few nice turns surrounded by total drek. I really would rather edit my paper on the Microcrystalline Structure of Nose Hair.

Wait, what if I deleted this sentence? I can’t even look at my manuscript with it there. But if I delete it, then I go right to the next sentence, which I don’t hate quite so much. OK, maybe I’ll change a few words to ease this transition. Now it’s merely painful. Before it was something that I could have written better when I was thirteen.

I’m going to move this paragraph to the next page, where it fits in better. God, that makes it look better. I only hate this a little bit. Maybe another half hour of editing wouldn’t hurt.

Sometimes you just have to make the hate work for you.


13 responses to “Hatred and the Writer

  1. “the Microcrystalline Structure of Nose Hair”


    Okay, here is where I remind you of that quote I posted from The Getaway Car:

    “The part of my brain that makes art and the part that judges that art had to be separated. While I was writing, I was not allowed to judge.”

  2. I’ve been known to print scenes out just to burn them in the grill. It doesn’t fix anything, but it’s cathartic nonetheless.

    (I literally wanna read that paper)

  3. I had a breakthrough recently when my hatred for the utter bullshit I had written spurred me to write something only mildly terrible. But then I finished that piece and now I have to come up with something else to write, which may be worse.

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